


Origins: The Harley Quinn Story (1)

by quaviondre



Series: Origins [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blood and Violence, Blow Jobs, Bottom Castiel (Supernatural), Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, Bottom Dean Winchester, Bottom Sam, Bottom Sam Winchester, Castiel is Joker, Castiel is Protective of Dean Winchester, Child Abuse, Crossover, Dark Fantasy, Dean Winchester is Protective of Castiel, Dean is Harley Quinn, Domestic Fluff, Domestic Violence, F/M, First Time Blow Jobs, First Time Bottoming, Gay Sex, Hand Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, Past Abuse, Rimming, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Top Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:15:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 96,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27937892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quaviondre/pseuds/quaviondre
Summary: Dr. Hartley Quinzel has had a tough life, an abusive father, a troubled past, and a lost friend. He's a recent college graduate and a struggling psychiatrist who has taken a job at Arkham Asylum to restore a friendship that he'd been responsible for destroying. His world is flipped upside down when he is drawn to an incurable stranger, and wonders if he could be the one that brings him to the light. However, this patient is not just any man, he is a master manipulator, willing to do whatever it takes to meet his goals. Will Dr. Quinzel be able to help this patient manage his dark intentions? Or will the patient finally push the already fragile doctor over the edge?
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel Joker / Dean Harley, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Joker (DCU) & Harleen Quinzel, Joker (DCU)/Harleen Quinzel, Lucifer/Sam Winchester
Series: Origins [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2046125
Kudos: 9





	1. Prologue

"Dammit Mary, look what you made me do," I heard my father yell out followed by the sound of my mother crying. It was a sound that I had grown accustomed to over the years. I hid in my closet as my mother had always instructed, but I knew that it was only a matter of time before he found me.

"Where is he! Where's the little faggot hiding," his voice growing ever closer as I sat in the fetal position rocking back and forth mentally preparing myself for what was to come.

"John, please! Please, he was just playing- he didn't know what he was doing, please John don't," my mother cried out, her voice weak and fearful. I heard her trailing behind him skipping a step, almost as if she was trying to catch up.

It wasn't long before he burst through my bedroom door and was on his way toward the closet door. I could hear his feet slamming into the ground over and over, every single drunken thud, thud, thud, each step he took. The predator approaching the weak and defenseless prey.

The closet door swung open and I saw the monster in front of me. Stern glassy eyes searing through my being with blind rage, his square set jaw set in an angry scowl, and hooded browbones casting a dark shadow over his eyes.

He yanked me up with one hand and lifted my small body to his face, I could see my mom pulling at his other only to be met with another smack from my father.

"Look here you little shit, I didn't raise a faggot, never have, never will, I don't ever want to see that other fag at our house again, you hear me," his vodka fumed voice screamed. He was talking about my best friend Sam, he had come home from the bar earlier than I expected.

My mom was in the kitchen cooking dinner and she hadn't noticed Sam and I sneaking out to the back of the trailer to try kissing for the first time. We were just playing around, trying to experiment, but my father didn't see it that way when he came around back to find me.

"They were just playing John, please, they-they didn't know what they were doing," my mother choked out, still trying to collect herself from when he hit her the second time. It was too late, he'd already thrown me onto the bed and my body tense to prepare for the blows to come.

"I don't care if I have to beat it out of you every day, my son will not grow up to be a fag," he threatened as he landed the first blow to my back. His threats no longer frightened me, I had grown accustomed to the abuse. He landed blow after blow after blow, and just lay there. He'd been beating my mother and me for so many years, it seemed as if it was part of our daily ritual.

I had learned to no longer feel the pain anymore, trained my eyes never to release a tear, and let my mind drift into oblivion. He just kept hitting me, my mother kept crying and screaming at him to stop, it was no use, of course, when he got like this, there was never any stopping him. It wasn't until the blood from his punch to my mouth started to stain the bed covers did he finally stop.

"I don't raise fags, clean that shit up Mary, I don't want that blood all over my shit," he said breathlessly, he stumbled out of my room and I heard the front door close behind him, it was over for now.

"I'm so sorry Hartley, you-you know how your father is, you shouldn't do things like that honey, you know how angry he gets," my mother reasoned as she lifted me from the bed onto the floor and started to gather the sheets that my blood soiled.

"I have to- I have to wash these before your father gets back, he'll calm down soon, and then he'll take us out tomorrow for some ice cream, you- you would like that wouldn't you Hartley, don't- don't mind him Hartley he's just having a rough day today, just make sure you don't do that again okay," my mother rambled, she never wanted a response when she was making excuse for him to me, she just wanted someone to listen, someone who can understand.

Her mind was weak, after all these years she still believes that there is good in him, but I know there isn't, there never was. I tried to lift myself off the floor so I could go the bathroom, but my wrist was sprained along with a few other parts of my body as well. Thankfully, I tucked my left arm underneath my body, so it wasn't as badly hurt I used that arm to help myself up and I began to hobble to the bathroom down the hall.

My mother was at the kitchen sink trying to soap up the sheets by hand, I guess in her frenzied state, she'd forgotten about the washing machine we had adjacent to the dining room. I watched her as she mumbled to herself, rocking as I had in the closet, she kept shaking her head and scrubbing furiously at the red stain.

Even at age twelve, I knew that my mother wasn't right in the head, the years of abuse had affected her differently. She was trying to wash away the red stain as if it would somehow erase what had happened as if without the evidence present, she could just let it go. The stain had finally come out of the cloth and I saw her straighten up from her slumped over stance.

"Hurry up and get cleaned up Hartley, your father will be home in just a minute, don't want him to see that you got hurt playing around now do we, he won't be pleased," just like that her entire demeanor and tone of voice went from fearful to pleasant. She had even found a way to twist a smile on her face.

I did as I was told and returned to my hobble to the bathroom, but not before I saw my mother rinse out the bedsheets and put them in the dryer. She returned to cooking the dinner as if nothing was amiss, even humming a tune as she stirred the pot of broth.

It didn't surprise me though, this was the norm in my household, these are my parents, and this is my life. I looked into the small mirror in our dank bathroom and got my washcloth from the shower. With my one good hand, I started to treat my wounds.

I let the water run until it was warm and soaped up my rag so I could clean up the dried blood from my mouth and head, I worked my way over every bloodied area on my body and looked at myself. My medium brown hair frazzled still and my left green eye clouded with blood due to the vessel in my eye that popped due to one of his blows.

I looked at myself in the mirror and smiled. The pain had returned, and it was glorious, I could feel the stinging, the rawness at my open wounds, and the soreness in my chest and back. I smiled at this pain because I knew it was only temporary, one day he won't be able to hurt me like this, one day he'd die.

The thought of my father being killed, the thought of him dying warmed my heart. I couldn't wait until he tried to drive home one night drunk and his car ran off the road into a tree, or he's at the right place at the right time at the local bar and someone would shoot him in the head, stab him in his neck, maybe even torture him. I fantasized about him dying in so many different ways, so many different accidents, every single day.

People like him, evil people, shouldn't get to live, they don't deserve life. I found myself laughing in the mirror when I thought of his death, his suffering. I can't wait to outlive him, outgrow him, and be better than him. The day he dies will be the happiest day of my life.


	2. Chapter 2

_I hate memory fragmented dreaming,_ I thought to myself as I sat up groggily from my bed. I hated dreaming about my childhood, it always makes my day start out horrible. I tried the several coping methods that I learned about while studying psychiatry, but they don't always work, not on mornings like these.

At least this one was different, I knew what the cause of my memory recall was, Sam. Today was my first session with him and I was so nervous to see him after all these years.

He and I were best friends since we were kids, we did everything together, played games, hangout, the works. We were inseparable, even when my father made it his mission to make sure we couldn't see each other again, we always found a way. We even tried dating for a while, but we realized it just wasn't going to work between the two of us. He and I just clicked and I think it was mostly due to the fact that we both had parents that weren't exactly keeping up with the Joneses.

We were more like the Addams Family, except minus the values and the love. He had it almost as bad as I did, where my dad couldn't get enough of beating on me and my mom, his parents couldn't care less if he lived or died. They gave him the bare essentials to survive, but other than that he was on his own from the age of ten upward.

His parents would leave him for weeks at a time and leave him with nothing but one loaf of bread and a package of meat that would be gone in a few days' time. Sam was beyond neglected, he was forgotten and that's why we got along so well, I knew what it was like to feel alone and afraid, but he actually was. It was no wonder he'd gotten so obsessed with plants, they were the only things that he could trust other than me.

He didn't really have a choice, there was only but so many times I could sneak him food from my house before my dad would notice and beat me for sharing. Gardening was the only way Sam could stay alive, he had to grow everything he ate so he wouldn't starve. He'd grown so close to plants I would sometimes hear him talking to them as if they could talk back.

It wasn't until after I left for college to pursue my psychiatry degree did his obsession become his entire life. We tried to stay in contact, but with the distance, the coursework, and the long hours we just couldn't keep in contact. It wasn't until two years ago that I heard about his accident, the one that changed him forever.

No one could ever explain to me what happened or clear answer as to how it was possible, but for some reason, it transformed him and gave him abilities that allowed him to manipulate the plant life around him psychically. He was terrorizing the city he lived in, killing people, destroying factories, and becoming an all-around eco-terrorist. He was finally apprehended by some vigilante they called The Bat and transferred to a special prison called Arkham Asylum.

That's the whole reason I moved to Gotham in the first place, I had no idea that my friend was suffering like this. It broke my heart that the one person who understood me, the one person who actually cared about me, I completely disregarded when he needed me the most. I knew it wasn't my fault that he became what he is now, but my heart tells a completely different story.

I had just finished my doctorate in psychiatry and as luck would have it Arkham was in dire need of a psychiatrist to help with their growing criminally insane population. I was hired within a few days of applying, they didn't care about my experience or that I was a fresh college graduate, they just wanted me to start as soon as possible.

I was so relieved when one of my first assignment was to complete a psych evaluation on Sam. Today was the day and I was so ready to see my friend again and help him through his mental struggle. I got up from my twin sized bed and immediately started stretching and warming up, all those years of gymnastics really does condition your body to keep up a certain routine.

That was the only good memory I had from my childhood. Even though my dad still beat me senseless every time I got home from what he deemed "sissy games" I was allowed to do it all four years of high school.

It conditioned my body, made me flexible, and lean and gave me those small moments of peace in my otherwise destructive home life. Also, it helped me pay for my tuition for college, could've gotten a full ride had I gone to Gotham City University, but I had to be picky and choose a school that my scholarship only covered half of. I won a few medals for being one of the most skilled gymnasts in multiple competitions. I didn't go pro though, I may have loved it, but it wasn't my passion.

That wasn't the only thing that gymnastics taught me either. Having to be nearly naked all the time, I learned to get very creative with stage makeup. I had to figure out some way to hide the bruises that I was receiving at home so I had to find any way I could to cover them up. I was too afraid of my father to let anyone know what he was doing to my mom and me for fear we would have to deal with the repercussions of his anger.

My mom was always so talented at hiding what he did to us in public, and even he would put on the face of the model father smiling with his seldom sober grin. It baffled me at how my parents could just turn it on whenever it was necessary, but that was just how we lived, by lying. It wasn't until college that I was finally able to get away from them and know what it was like to be normal.

I had become so accustomed to lying, making excuses and being silenced that going to a place where I was finally accepted, was an entirely new step in the right direction. However, no matter how hard I tried, how much I repressed I couldn't escape the darkness that loomed in my mind, the darkness my father put there.

That very darkness kept me from making friends, having boyfriends, and living life. The only friend I had lived hundreds of miles away, so all I had were my studies and my coursework. That's why I needed to get Sam back, I know he might never be the same as he was, but I needed somebody, anybody to take away the loneliness. He was and still is my one and only friend, and having him my life again, even under supervised visits in a cell specially designed for him is enough to get me through. I finished my stretching and started getting cleaned up.

I walked into the bathroom brushed my teeth, showered and started getting dressed. Finally finished, I looked at myself in the mirror, my simple red colored button down, tucked in my khaki pants, with my brown dress shoes freshly polished. I never thought of myself as much to look at, I was average height, for a white man in his early twenties, I had a somewhat rugged appearance with my stubbly beard, green eyes, and my somewhat wild dark medium brown hair with a few light freckles sprinkled on my tan face.

I had the same stern jaw structure that always made me look angry. That was one of the things I hated the most about myself. I looked so much like my father it would make me physically sick to look at myself in the mirror. I hated him with every fiber of my being, I hated that I looked like him, I hated that he outlived my mother, and I hate that he's still alive and kicking.

My mother died being abused, and it wasn't like she was going to win a mother of the year award anytime soon, but she was the only person who besides Sam, who knew firsthand what my father was really like.

For him to outlive her and still be in his right mind at his age, is the biggest fuck you from the universe to little old me. I stood there for a second staring at my revolting reflection and decided to just shake it off clean up my apartment, and get my bag and supplies so I can be off to work.

My apartment wasn't exactly the four seasons, hell it wasn't even a closet at the four seasons, but for a student who was fresh out of college, with those fresh student loans knocking at my door, this apartment was the best that I could do on the budget I had. It was small, very small, smelly, and dirty, but it was mine and that's more than I can say about a lot of the people who lived in Gotham City.

I straightened up a bit, dumped the last of the takeout I ate last night, and killed a few roaches along the way. I was finally ready to be on my way, I locked up and headed down the road to Arkham, both excited and terrified to see my friend for the first time in years.


	3. Chapter 3

Because I lived within walking distance of Arkham it didn't take me long before I arrived. I approached the the front of the building where the name Arkham Asylum was engraved in the gates. One of the attendants buzzed me in and I was on my way up the dirt path to where the entrance to the building was located.

Once inside I was greeted by the flickering of the hall lights in the building, and the powerful scent of saline and bleach. I walked to the front desk and spoke to the desk clerks so they could unlock the doors so I could get into my section of the building.

"I heard that they had they had to muzzle the guy so he finally just shut up with the riddles," the older blonde woman commented while she cleaned her nails.

"That's nothing, I heard that when they brought that scarecrow dude in here. He wouldn't stop talking about how fear would rule the world, and I'll make you all pay, and blah this and blah that. I mean honestly, I know its an asylum and everything, but damn why do we get the super crazy ones," the darker haired larger man responded.

It always surprised me at how insensitive people were here, it was as if no one cared. They call them all monsters and crazies when really they are just sick and defenseless creatures in need of some good old-fashioned love and attention. I knew what it meant to be treated like an outcast, I knew what it was like to told you're not normal.

That's the main reason I decided to become a psychiatrist in the first place, to learn how to help people who couldn't help themselves. A mind is a powerful tool that holds such great potential for both good and evil, we just have to learn how to teach these people who to access their best selves.

"You know you shouldn't talk about them like that, they're just in pain, it's not their fault," I responded, my voice barely a whisper.

"I'm sorry did you hear something Thomas?" asked the older woman.

"I don't think so Barbara I'd sure hope that the little fag isn't talking to us, is he?" Thomas spat out, his voice leaking venom as he spoke.

"I- I'm-I'm sorry, I just- I mean...can you just let me in please," I stuttered out quickly.

"Sure, why not, maybe with your little save the world complex might get you a gold star today, kiss ass," Barbara said chuckling as she put in the access code then let me in.

"Be careful not to get lost, don't want you to get hurt or anything, you know what they do to fags in jail, can only imagine what they'll do to them in an asylum," he laughed out, I heard Barbara in the background echoing his hate. I walked down the hall quickly and headed to my little office at the far end. The whole time I walked to get to my office, I kept replaying the scene over and over again.

I knew I wanted to say something back to them, I knew I wanted to show them that I didn't fear anyone anymore. I was a grown ass man, I didn't need to fear anyone, but I did. Not so much them, but what they said, and how they said it. They reminded me so much of my father when they spoke like that and all I could do was sit there and take it, just like I did all those years ago.

I don't even know how they found out I was gay, I only just started two weeks ago, but whatever way they found out it didn't matter. All that mattered was the fact that they did know. That in and of itself was enough to make me cold all over on the inside again.

That's when the thoughts came, the ones that invaded my mind every time someone attacked my sexuality, personality, or me in general. It wasn't always big things it was sometimes subtle, but it was just enough to make the thoughts start flowing. I thought of the ways that Thomas and Barbara could die, poisoning their drinks when they left their station would be too easy, they die too quickly. Shooting them in the head would be too swift, they'd die pretty much instantaneously.

If I wanted them to suffer, they would have to be stabbed, choked, or even just smashing their head into the table over and over again until there was nothing but a bloody pulp left where their head should be. I never understood why I would have thoughts like these, I attributed them to a sort of obsessive ritual that I would do every time people picked on me, most likely due to my father's consistent abuse.

Being a psychiatrist did have some perks, it meant that I could self-diagnose most of the time and it helps me figure out ways to suppress my dark thoughts. I knew they were just that, thoughts, I never acted on my darkness, never let it take over me because I knew that I was in control of my actions, not any other force. That's why coming here, where almost one hundred percent of the population treated, have killed someone doesn't scare me.

Everyone has the potential to do horrible things if, given the right stimulus, some people are able to resist that potential and others give in to it. The world is full of two types of people: those who give in to their darkness and those who fight it with everything they've got. The dark thoughts finally subsided and I was able to get prepared for what the day had in store.

I sat at my desk in my office that was not much bigger than my broom closet living room and started to get my files together. I had my first three evaluations to type up and get my new one started today for Sam. Before I started though I typed in a quick entry in my online journal I kept since I started college.

It was very therapeutic for me to get all those dark thoughts in one place so it wouldn't feel like I was being weighed down by them all the time. I logged into the journal online and started to type, but before I could get all I wanted to say out, there was a knock at the door that interrupted my train of thought and I looked up from my computer desk to see who it was.

"Open up Hartley, it's me Harleen," called a female voice from the other side of the door. I rolled my eyes in annoyance at the jersey accent that she presented, it was so cutesy and quirky like she was trying so hard to be different. The first day I got here she heard Dr. Strange say my name in the break room and commented on how similar they sound, and from that day on she would not leave me alone.

"I can't talk right now, I have to get this evaluation typed up, maybe later," I said curtly, my tone of voice would be some indicator that I wanted to be left alone. I quickly minimized my online journal and pulled up my evaluation sheets so if she walked in, I knew that she wouldn't see it. I couldn't have her knowing any more about my life than she had already learned from her incessant questions.

"Come on Hartley, I know you're not that busy, the evaluations aren't even due until later on this afternoon, come on just talk with me for a second, I need your help," she whined through the door. I know I didn't want to deal with her right now, but I knew she wouldn't go anywhere until I let her in, so to avoid fighting a losing battle I just decided to get it over with fast, like ripping off a band-aid.

"Alright Dr. Sorkin you can come in, but please make it fast," I begged, knowing it probably was futile to ask her to make something fast, she was the queen of dragging things out.

"Thanks, Hartley and why so formal, I promise it'll be quick," she says as she opens the door and walks in. It always struck me at how beautiful she was for a psychiatrist working at a place like this. She had this gorgeous golden blonde hair, with very beautiful tan skin similar to mine and a very oval face.

She had a very curvaceous body, and a deadly grin coupled with her circular glasses that made her look both endearing and sultry. If it wasn't for that voice, her vagina, and the fact that I couldn't stand her, I might have considered dating her.

"We are both professionals and we both have doctorates, I didn't get thousands of dollars in debt to be called Hartley," I remarked sarcastically.

"Alright, alright, I'm sorry don't kill me, I just wanted to be a little more personal with you, but if you want to be called Dr. Quinzel, I'll respect your wishes," she said quietly.

At that point, I felt like a dick, but I didn't really mind too much because I really didn't like her, granted she's better than most of the coworkers I met, but she was still just so irritating. What she lacked in abrupt rudeness and disgust, she gained back in pure irritation and false friendliness.

You could practically feel the fakeness in the air that surrounded her, it just followed her wherever she went. But no matter how much I didn't like her, I wasn't a rude person, I wasn't a dick, I wasn't my father.

"Look I wasn't trying to jump down your neck, it's just I worked so hard to get doctor in front of my name, so it means a lot to me that people call me by the name I earned," I say, feigning sincerity, I may not actually think I was wrong for what I said, but I could tell it hurt her feelings and I didn't want to be the reason her mood was brought down, even though I hate how happy she is all the time.

"It's completely fine I get it Dr. Quinzel," she hangs on my name in this very formal, almost jokey voice that makes my skin crawl, "so what's that you're working on, I see you minimized a screen, you writing a book or something?" she asked as she plopped down on the side of my desk and looked at my screen, I quickly move my mouse over to exit the minimized notepad icon.

I hated the fact that this particular online journal required you to download the application, so you didn't have the luxury of hiding behind the internet explorer icon.

"What I choose to do in my spare time does not concern you," I say angrily, forgetting my whole "don't be a dick" thing. It was one thing to be annoying, but nosey too, that just really irked me.

"Sorry," she says holding up both hands in surrender, as she backed away and continued, "I only came in to see how you were doing before you did your rounds and, well, ask you a quick favor."

There it was, that air of fakeness has finally lifted from the atmosphere, her true purpose for coming to see me was revealed. She only used the, "just stopping by to check up on you," as a cover for what she really wanted. Nobody cares about what I'm doing, how I'm doing, or what I'm really thinking about.

She says she wanted to see how my day was going but not once did she ask, it was all about what I could do for her. It's always about what I could do for her.

 _Selfish bitch_ , I thought to myself before mustering up enough energy to pretend to care about what she wants.

"What is it, Dr. Sorkin?" I ask, retraining with little conviction to hold back the annoyance in my voice.

"Well, I have to leave work early today to get some stuff cleaned up before my mom comes over, she's visiting for the weekend to help me get some decorations picked out for my house, did I tell you I was redecorating, we have this lovely red and black template we're going by and I just cannot wait to go to Bed Bath and Beyo—," she stopped mid-sentence after noticing my very unpleased expression. I really tried to hide it this time, but I couldn't help it, this woman never knows when to shut the fuck up.

"Anyways long story short, I won't be able to get all my evaluations done before I leave and I don't have much time enough time to do them tomorrow with all the workload I have to dig into tomorrow so I was wondering if you could do mine by any chance, it's just one, but I don't have the time to get it done today.

I just need you to do the preliminary session, I'll do the talk therapy and work with him I just need you to give me some idea to what kind of patient he is before I get to him. Doctor Strange told me you're great at seeing things that other people miss, you were the best in your class because of how quickly you could diagnose people from just one session, you're really talented," she responded.

There it was again, the veil of fakeness has returned once more and now she's giving me empty compliments to butter me up so I'll say yes. I should say no just to spite her, just to annoy her and make her have to work even harder tomorrow to get all her work done, but I didn't. I know how long a preliminary evaluation is in Arkham, they have very strict guidelines we have to follow we asking questions and gathering information, one evaluation could take up to an hour at the least depending on how responsive the patient is.

I only had Sam and two other guys before him today because I've only just arrived and my workload isn't as extensive as hers just yet, I think they're just slowly getting me into the groove of things before they bombard me with almost five to six people a day. I was going to have to get used to workload eventually so I decided why not just get take it on if not for preparation, but for the sheer fact that I would be helping someone who really needs it.

"Alright fine, I'll help, but if I ever need a favor from you, I need to know I can count on you to return it," I reluctantly respond.

"Thanks so much, Dr. Quinzel, I sent you a link to his paperwork already... I was kind of counting on you to say yes, anyways he's already in his cell so all you have to do sign the sheet, and here Ill right down my pin code so you can get past the closed-off section," she says as she scribbles a few numbers on a piece of discarded paper on my desk.

I briefly want to get angry at her for just assuming that I was going to say yes, but before I could I realized the gravity of what she had just said.

"Wait, the closed off Section? You mean, Section D?" I asked in surprise.

"Yeah this guy is what you call we call a classic certifiable nutzo, excuse my language, but this guy should seriously have a rewards card for Arkham, he could rack up on a few dozen frequent flier miles for how many times he gets sent back here," she said jokingly.

She knew to say excuse her language because of how much I hated words like crazy, nutzo, lunatic. The anger I wanted to feel for her dissipated just as quickly as it did before because it was replaced with this sense of genuine curiosity.

"Who is this guy? What's his name?" I ask, intensely intrigued by the idea of meeting this 'incurable' man.

"No one really knows what his real name is, I mean some people have tried to figure it out but there aren't any records for him, no birth certificate, no fingerprints, nothing, it's like this guy earned his entire identity from the map to ensure no one could ever connect the dots of his history, I'm surprised you haven't heard of him, he's usually on the news all the time for all of his deadly 'pranks' and how often him and Batman are battling it out," she remarks.

"I only just got here two weeks ago, I barely can afford a tv let alone watch the news," I respond back dryly, annoyed with her dodging the questions, I just wanted to know who this guy was.

"Well look he's no walk in the park either from what I've heard, I mean no one here is easy, but this guy he's next level difficult. He's not just mentally unstable, but the scariest part about him is the fact that no one knows how he keeps escaping Arkham.

Every time we get him here to be treated he's gone within a few weeks, it's like we can't keep the guy in one place for more than few weeks. He's extremely smart, borderline genius level intellect, probably due to his psychotic and anti-social behaviors.

A lot of us have tried to talk with him to understand him, but no has been able to get through, and just when they think they might be breaking through a wall, boom, he escapes. That's why we have to re-evaluate every time he comes back, it's like he's a new person every time he comes in," she trails on.

"What is his name?" I ask this time a little more firmly. I need to know who he is, I need to meet him, what is so aloof about this man? Why is it that no one can get through to him. Anyone can be cured, anyone can hide their dark intent, you just have to teach them how.

"They call him by a lot of names, madman, psychopath, but he's known, by most of the general public as...the Joker."


	4. Chapter 4

The Joker, the name hung in the air as I watched Harleen scurry off in a hurry. No doubt trying to get out before I had a sudden change of heart. I starred at the monitor in front of me for a second, and minimized my evaluation of one of yesterday's patients and pulled up my work email. I searched through my inbox and found Harleen's link to the joker file. I pulled it up.

I read through his file and found myself floored by the information I was reading. His crimes ranged from laughing gases and simple stunts to full-on mass murder and torture. I should have been disgusted, I know I should have felt some sort of sadness at the especially long list of heinous crimes I was reading about, but there was none. No sympathy for the victims, no anger at the man for what he had done, just an unbelievable sense of intrigue.

This was a man who had completely given to his darkness, there was no stone unturned in the depth of his depravity. He has done some horrible, terrible, god-awful things to people and from what I could tell, he enjoyed it. The thought of meeting someone like this, understanding someone like this, and possibly rehabilitating someone like this...it was exhilarating.

This was the reason I became a psychiatrist, I wanted to help people realize that darkness can be contained, it can be controlled and they can be helped. This could be my biggest challenge yet, but if I were to succeed and changing this man into an upstanding member of society, I could be revered in the psychological community, a hero in my own way.

This whole time I was reading his file, I had no idea that I hadn't even seen his face, I'd completely dove into reading that I hadn't even noticed the image file that Harleen attached to the email. I clicked the image file and waited for it to load, I knew it would probably be a few moments since Arkham was notorious for having the worst internet connection imaginable with how thick the concrete walls were.

In the moments I'd waited for it to load, I pictured what this so-called madman looked like, probably some super tall, super buff gangster. I'd had my fair share of those in Arkham, just yesterday, I had to evaluate some steroid induced superhuman, nicknamed Killer Croc, he'd been entirely too eager to comment of my small frame.

I may have broad shoulders, and medium built, but compared to him I looked like a stick figure. I've always been used to people commenting on how frail I looked when I was younger. It was there favorite thing to pick on me about, next to the whole being gay thing.

Constantly, I was ridiculed at how small I was and looked, it wasn't until I joined gymnastics and got more body massed and shaped up a bit that people started to let it go. Of course, I was still picked on, but that was one less thing that I had to worry about being teased about.

 _Beep. Beep_. The computer sounded, notifying me that the image had loaded fully. I turned my head, expecting to see the image of some type of blockhead still fresh in my mind, but the image that had loaded before me left me utterly speechless.

The man on the screen was a man of average height, looking to be early to mid-twenties. He had hooded eyes that seemed to cast a shadow over his bright blue eyes, making him look both sadistic and inviting all at the same time. His skin was shockingly pale, almost lifeless, and his hair had an uneven green dye to it along with the dark brown roots trying to grow to the surface. 

What surprised me most about his appearance was that in the picture was the dark red lipstick on his lips and face that painted a sinister smile on his face. From what I could tell, even though it looked like makeup, the marks on his face looked as though the smile was physically carved into his face. It was somewhat unsettling to see someone able to convey this much fear out of me from a picture alone.

I'd seen some scary individuals from my brief stay in Gotham, but this guy by far takes the cake on downright creepy. From a picture alone he was able to convey a sort of innocence in his eyes that paints a completely different picture than what I read about him.

What was even more unsettling was the fact that he wasn't half bad to look at either. Scratch that, he was fucking sexy, I've seen some hot men before, I mean I went to a college filled to the brim with them.

But I've never been really attracted to those preppy, pretty boys, I've always preferred my men on the stranger side and this guy was definitely my kind of strange. I had quickly minimized the image and tried to shake of my impure thoughts.

"Get ahold of yourself Hartley, it's just a fucking picture, he's an inmate for fucks sake, remember, you're here for Sam, that's it, you're just going to evaluate this guy for Harleen and be done with him, just let it go," I said aloud, admonished myself mentally. I had to bring myself back to the reality of what I was supposed to be focusing on, the only reason I took this job here at Arkham, to help Sam get better.

True, it would be nice to help the guy I saw in the picture, but I didn't come here for fame or recognition, I came here for my friend, I have to help him get better because right now, he's all I have left...all the matters to me now. Plus, Harleen only needs me to do the Joker's evaluation, after that, he's her patient, not mine.

On that note, I shake my earlier thoughts away and start to gather my clipboard and evaluation sheets and head out of my office. I began my stride down the hallway, what always surprised me most about Arkham wasn't the cells or the patients, but the sheer lack of sanitation within its walls. Sure, the supposed janitors kept it somewhat clean, it was the bare minimum.

There was always something crude on the floor or something unsightly smeared on the walls. One of the most haunting things about Arkham was just how depressing it all looked, the walls have been repainted time and time again without much avail. Some of the other psychiatrists have told me that the reason they had to keep painting the walls was that the state got tired of paying for professional cleaners to get the blood stains off the walls that they would just rather repaint it to avoid the hassle altogether.

That was why my pay rate was so high starting off, most of the employees were either killed or violently mutilated by patients so much so that the there would be practically nobody willing to sign up to work here. That's the other reason I decided to take the job, and with all the bills I had to pay and student loans, I had to take the first job that would hire me.

I'd finally made it to Section C, this was the wing in Arkham where they housed criminals with certain metahuman abilities. Each one specially tailored to dampening the abilities of the criminal in question.

I typed in my pin code and held my key card up to the large steel door that closed off this wing. It opened with a loud beeping sound and creaked open for me. I walked through it and was met with the sounds of the inmates yelling, some screaming for release and others loudly plotting their revenge.

There were so many voices that it was hard for me to focus on trying to make it down the hall without them noticing me too much, but that was of no success. I was taken aback by a loud thump of someone slamming their hands against the plexiglass of one of their cells. I turned to try and find the cause of the where the sound.

"Well, look what we have here, hey _snowflake_ , want to play with my _ice_ pick," one voice I heard through the masses spoke out to the left of me. The voice itself sounded like it had a natural effect attached to it with an eerie whisper seeming to follow behind it. I looked in the cell to meet the eye of a pale-skinned, white-haired man with a blue jumpsuit that left much of his body exposed.

I looked at the electronic pin pad, to the right of the pin pad to open the cell and it read, _Luke Lincoln aka. Killerfrost_.

"Sorry, not interested," I responded curtly. He slammed his hands again against the glass, it looked as if his hands were misty, it looked very similar to when people breath in cold temperatures.

"What's the matter, afraid to get a little _cold_ ," his eye's flashed an icy white before he stepped back and laughed silently at me. I walked away briskly, true the inmates would flirt with me sometimes just to mess with me, but it always threw me off a bit. I didn't understand how in an asylum I can get the attention of dozens of people, but outside these walls, I couldn't get a man to give me a second look.

I walked down to the lower level and the voices though still loud began to die down a bit, and soon they were almost inaudible. I was told that they had to build him a special prison cell in the lower wing that cost the state thousands because it was the only thing that was strong enough to contain his abilities. From what I was told his abilities were not just linked to psychology, but his biology, he was literally part plant from my understanding.

So the only way to keep his powers weak, was to keep him away from sunlight, but he would die without it, so they had to put in a place with manufactured sunlight so as to keep him alive, but still sufficiently weakened. When I arrived at the bottom of the stairs there were a few flickering lights that dimly illuminated the path ahead, I walked forward and saw the cell ahead, it was an all-glass chamber with a metal railing in front of it.

There were two monitors that were stationed on either side of it and a single chair in front of it, no doubt put there for the evaluator. I walked forward and sat down and looked in the cell, the chemical mist inside was being consistently pumped into the air in its confines.

I saw a body lying on the floor on the inside, the steady rise and fall of the side view signaled that the person lying there was sleeping. I looked from the side view and saw the body of the figure, that was lying there. They were tall with broad shoulders similar to my own but much taller than me.

Their body seemed to have somewhat of a green tint to it, with spore-like spots that covered most of their body. From what I could tell they also had dark red hair with flowers braided throughout it and they were barely wearing anything at all, they had a red dress shirt with a popped collar, and a vine G-string that exposed most of their butt. I bit my lip and cursed a little at the memory of touching that butt, feeling it, and exploring it.

We may have worked out better as friends than a couple, but there was no denying that when we were dating, the sex was amazing. Without even having to see his face, I knew the person on the other side of this glass cell was definitely my _Sammy_ , and I still couldn't believe it. I put my clipboard down on the side of the chair and looked at the name flashing across the screen of one of the monitors, Samuel Isley, aka Poison Ivy.

I walked closer to the glass chamber and knocked silently against it the figure inside remained still. I knocked a second time, a little harder, and he began to stir a bit. He started to stretch his body, in an extremely seductive manner and rose off the ground still facing the wall on the inside. He spread his legs when he stood up and bent over a bit, feigning another stretch before letting out an exasperated yawn with his hands outstretched above his head.

 _Son of a bitch_. I cursed to myself, hating the fact that even after all these years seeing Sam bent like that in front of me still turns me on. He turns around eyes closed and starts to feel on his body a bit, his collared red shirt having only one button on it at the top so it exposed his washboard abs and surprisingly feminine figure.

The vine G-string he was wearing was barely containing his impressive package. One lock of his hair fell in front of his head in front of his eye and he smiled a bit as if he knew just how sexy it would make him look.

"I can feel you watching me, do you like what you s—" he started seductively, however, immediately stopped when his green eyes met mine. I'm sure he was expecting to see one of the guards doing their rounds or another psychologist

"Hey Sammy," I said quietly.

The devilish smile that was drawn on his face was erased almost instantaneously, replaced with a look of shock. For a brief second, I saw who he once was, his expression was akin to a person seeing someone that had died and suddenly came back to life: a mix of confusion, joy, and fear all at once.

I'm sure no one here has ever seen this side of Sam, from the stories I'd heard, people said that many people feared him because of how calculating he was, not only was he able to seduce any guard whether it was a man or woman, but he was also able to somehow convince them to try and help them escape.

They were only able to subdue him because they had rigged the entire lower level with the chemical being pumped through into his cell now. But even still, he'd killed almost twelve guards in his short stay here due to the toxins in his lips, so now they have the guards rotate shifts more frequently to ensure no one would get tricked by his charms.

He stared at me for a second, all the emotions rushing in through him all at once no doubt, but just as quickly as they were there, they left his eyes. There was only one look left in his eyes, and that was one of pure, undistinguishable hatred.

"You." He said voice thick and heavy with emotion. His eyes searing a hole in my own and I couldn't help but bow my head in guilt when he said that. I knew what was about to happen next was not going to be pleasant.


	5. Chapter 5

I looked at the familiar face glaring at me with hesitance. Even underneath all that greenish skin, and that confident act he was trying to put on, I could still see the man underneath. The man that used to be my lover, and soon turned into one of my best friends, my brother.

"What are you doing here," he spits at me, hanging on each word, the venom ever present in his voice. All the soft seductiveness that was present before had dissipated, there was nothing left but spite.

"I-I got a job here at Arkham, I-I'm a psychiatrist, I am here to help people, including you," I rambled a bit, it was one thing to think about seeing Sam after all these years, but to actually be in his presence, that was an entirely new feeling altogether. Suddenly, I found myself, unsuccessfully, trying to defend myself as I spoke with him.

"I want you to get the help you need Sammy, you don't deserve to be locked up like some animal," I continued. I was met with nothing but his cold gaze, regarding me as if I was the scum of the Earth. I knew I'd deserved it, I knew that I had no right to talk to him about helping him after what I did, but I couldn't help wanting him, needing him to understand that it's different now.

"Humans are the animals, don't ever compare me to you walking pestilence," he spits at me pointedly, "but it doesn't surprise me, you all try and trap the Green's beauty, her essence. Trapping her in cages, keeping her vines locked behind your concrete walls and bricks to admire what you could never hope to become.

My children, my mother, have suffered at the hands of you meat sacks, so I knew it would only be a matter of time before you all tried to contain the Green's fiercest warrior. But even when you cut us down, tear us apart, trap us, we always rise above it, these walls can't hold me forever."

I regarded his words, I couldn't believe how lost my friend had become, he was talking as if nature was a sentient being, with a consciousness of its own.

"Sammy, do you hear yourself, you're talking as if you aren't human too. I know that your biology was altered slightly, but you are still—" I tried to reason.

"I AM NOT HUMAN!" he screamed, his eyes darkening, furious at my statement, "and you're the last person who has any right to judge what I am. You left me, remember, or are we going to try to hide behind this caring friend façade to appease your own guilt."

I felt the pain in his voice, the ache, he may be furious with me, but I knew him well enough to know that it was just a front he was putting up his defense mechanism. Deep down I knew he was hurting and I knew that I was the cause. I remembered the day I left him, it was my dad who tried to keep us apart, but it was me who severed the ties we shared over the next few years.

I hated my father with a deep-seated passion, but I still felt the need to appease him in some way, to try and satiate his anger towards me. Sure, I snuck out a few times to go see him, but over time, our visits became farther in between, but we still got to see each other in school. It wasn't until the day that I went to college that we'd truly lost each other.

Because I had been taking college courses for most of high school life, I was able to leave for college much earlier than Sam. It was during my sophomore year that the school notified me that I could transfer to the college for my junior and senior year. I was only seventeen at the time, but my it was my only chance to escape my father so I took it.

When I told Sam, he was heartbroken, I was his only friend at school, and without me, I knew he'd have no one looking out for him. He already had no family to take care of him, no friends to love him, but me and now I was leaving him too. I promised him that I would keep in contact with him, I swore that no matter what I did or where I went he would always be my best friend, the closest thing to someone who really loved me as I could get.

"I believed you." He stated, tears starting to well in his eyes, "even after you pulled away from me, even after you left me, I believed it when you said you loved me, that you would always care for me and take care of me. I had no one, Dean, you were all I had."

I lowered my head submissively at his use of that name. I hadn't heard that name in years as my memory flashed back to our childhood. When we were younger, we didn't know how to cope with the abuse our parents inflicted on us, so we made up these characters in our head, these heroes.

We called ourselves the _Winchester_ _brothers_ , we were hunters that would fight any and all forces of evil together, vampires, witches, demons, you name it the Winchesters could defeat it. Sam kept his name because he thought it sounded cool, but I wanted to completely reinvent myself.

Hartley, my given name, symbolized the fear and abuse I received from my father, and hearing Sam call me that when we were pretending to be the fiercest hunters alive, just reminded me that I wasn't. To fully immerse myself in the fantasy, I decided to rename myself, Dean, so as to completely leave Hartley behind. Since then, the name stuck, and he was the only one who referred to me as such.

"I know Sammy, I know that's why I came back, that's why I am here now, to hel—" I started.

"Don't say that, don't pretend like you care about me because I know you don't. You never have, all those lies you'd tell me back when we used to fuck each other, back when we thought we could be together. You told me that no matter what happened, no matter if we worked out or not, you would always be there for me. Always." His choked out, the tears streaming down his face, and I could tell he was trying with all his might to bite them back for fear of looking vulnerable.

"I did mean it, Sammy, I love you, whether we were together or not, you were always my best friend, and when the dating didn't work out, you became my brother, I did mean—" I started a second time.

"Then where were you when I needed you most!" his words cut me like knives and I could only stand there as he twisted it with every sentence that followed.

"I called you every day and it was always, 'I'm too busy right now' or 'I'll call you later.' I waited and 'later' never came, you stand there claiming that you meant what you said, but you left me all alone, completely alone." He stated, his composure changing suddenly, it was as if he'd realized what he that he was being too vulnerable, too raw for his own taste, and I could see that the Sam I knew slowly fall back behind the Sam I was greeted with before he'd seen my face.

"But I suppose, I should be thanking you," he stated simply, forcing his voice to return to its dark and menacing tone, "you helped me realize who was truly there for me, who had never left me, who would never leave me again. The Green welcomed my tears in her ample bosom like a mother caring for a sickly child. She cared for me unlike any human ever could, kept me alive, and kept me regain the strength that I'd lost when you left me."

I couldn't believe how quickly he'd reverted to this persona, it was as if the shock of seeing me broke through this barrier he put up, but only for a few moments. Then, I'd remembered suddenly why I was here in the first place.

My Sammy was sick, and he needed help, help to shut out the darkness he'd let leak from his mind. I had to remember that it takes time to get through to patients who have lost their sense of what was real, and what was their own overactive imagination.

Without me there by his side to keep him from the edge, he had no support to keep him from falling, and no one, not even I was there to catch him. But I was here now, I may have failed him for all these years, but I am not going to fail him again, I was going to get him back, even if it took years, I was going to get my brother back. I sat down in the seat that sat in front of the glass prison and I pulled my clipboard and pen up into my lap.

This is why I got a degree in psychiatry, this is what I trained for, to help people who like me, have a hard time containing the darkness inside. I'd helped people before, Sam was no different, it will take time, but this is what I signed up for all those years ago when I told him I will never leave him, and I never will again.

"Sam—" I began.

"The name is Ivy. Poison Ivy." He snapped back.

"Alright, Ivy," I said, my mind making a mental note that in order to get through to him, I have to acknowledge the fantasy as real life, it was the only way I'd get any more response from him.

"Listen, I'm not going to apologize to you for what I did because I know you won't accept it. I want you to know though, that I am beyond ashamed of how I deserted you and how I made you feel, but that doesn't matter to you, does it?"

He raised an eyebrow and cocked his head in a way that let me know that he agreed with what I was saying.

"I know that you would never forgive me for what I did to you, and I don't expect you to. I was weak Sa—I mean Ivy, I am weak now, but I know that I can be strong enough for the two of us, you need help Ivy, and I know I can help you," I try and explain.

"What makes you think I need help, or that I somehow need you. Granted, your presence may have blindsided me for a moment, but that doesn't change the fact that I don't have any intention of changing what I have become," he states plainly, the trepidation in his voice completely erased, his slow and seductive tone completely revived.

"What do you mean?" I pressed, as both a psychiatrist and as a friend.

"I said what I meant, the person you see before you is who I am and always will be. Mother Green has blessed me with her power and gifted me with her strength, I have never felt such power before, and even with all these chemicals and walls keeping me from her, I can still feel her call to me. Waiting for my return to care for the children that she bears."

"Ivy, 'Mother Green,' did not give you your powers, what happened to you was an accident, a freak occurrence that gave you abilities that, while unexplainable, are still just a chemical change that modified your biology," I say trying to reason with her.

"It was no accident, but a series of events the Green manufactured to bestow upon me the gifts that she felt I was worthy of, do you even know how I came to be this way, Dr. Quinzel" he stated proudly, as he watched my surprise at hearing him call me by my professional name.

"You don't have to call me that," I say quietly.

"Don't I? First names are for friends, you are my psychiatrist correct? Would be awfully unprofessional of me to refer to my 'doctor' by a childhood nickname I used to call someone I cared about," he stated curtly. His words stung like acid and I couldn't help but let it. He had no reason to trust me, I lost that the day I left him, this is what I deserve.

"Very well, Mr. Isley, and yes I know what happened I read your profile," I answered.

"It's _Ivy_. And for your information, it would have been Dr. Isley if I still went by that name. You're not the only one who got a doctorate degree, Doctor." He states, offended both by the use of his given last name and the fact that I called him Mister instead of a doctor.

I remembered how his profile stated that before the accident, he had received a doctorate in biochemistry and was quite the accomplished biochemist before he became an eco-terrorist.

"I apologize, and yes I do know how you became mutated, it said that you had accidentally ingested some ancient herbs from an Egyptian artifact that you and your botany professor, Marc LeGrande stole from a museum in Seattle," I said remembering the file that was tucked away in my drawer in my office. I'd read it over and over a few dozen times, still unbelieving of what had supposedly turned my friend into some type of plant whisperer.

"That's what they told you happened," he laughs lightly, the tone is musical and scarily seductive, no wonder so many people fell under his charms,

"Well, I hate to break it to you, Doctor, but that's only a small snippet of what happened that fateful day."

"Then please, enlighten me," I said, hope trying to sneak its way into my voice, the more I get him to open up to me, the closer I can get to figuring out just where this Poison Ivy character came from.

I readied my pen as Sam started to speak, determined to get down every word, I may not be following protocol, but Sam was my best friend, I had to do this in a way he would be responsive to. I had to play along to get my brother back to me.

"Well, for starters, Marc wasn't just my professor, he was my lover," he stated plainly, I scribbled down the new information,

"He and I had been together for most of the semester, before I'd found out that he was married and had three kids, I was heartbroken, for the second time," he added.

I looked up from the clipboard to meet his eyes and from his hurt expression, I could tell he was implying that I was his first heartbreak. He looked away and continued.

"I thought I had finally found someone that understood me, someone who could love me, even though he was human, I thought maybe, just maybe he was one of the good ones. So when I found out that this whole time, I was nothing more than a crude affair, I threatened to tell his wife about us and he was terrified.

He said that he would do anything, anything to keep me from telling his wife, I didn't want anything from him, but he insisted that there was a way that he could make it up to me, so he concocted a plan. He played on my desire to help the environment by telling me that there was this artifact in the museum.

One that belonged to the plant kingdom, he told me that if I didn't tell his wife that he would help me steal it and return it to its rightful place. I believed him. Once we'd stolen it he invited me to, what I later found out, was his friend's condo for tea, we'd been there a few times and he was British so it didn't surprise me that he wanted to have tea with me."

I scribbled away, regarding his words carefully, I knew how trusting Sam could be when he thinks someone loves him. It was one of the things I had to help him through when we'd broken up and he's dated other guys or girls, as soon as they told him they loved him, he'd bend over backward to their will. He valued their happiness over his own and trusted them without a shadow of a doubt.

That was one of the things that Sam and I shared when we did love, our love was ferocious, we would do anything to be loved because we'd spent all of our lives without it. It was one of the reasons why I never dated anyone or got too serious, I knew that love was my weakness, and loving anyone could make me incredibly weak.

"I didn't think twice about it when he offered it to me and drank it down like it was nothing, I just assumed it was his way of saying goodbye. It's kind of funny actually. I was so upset with him for lying to me, I'd been hurt so much in my life so his betrayal stung. But when he remembered how much I respected the Green and his willingness to risk incarceration to help me give her back her property, softened my resolve to tell his wife about us.

It was true I loved him, but the Green has and always will be my greatest love, my truest love. I was going to tell him right then that I was going to apologize for my threats and now that I have this gift to return to nature, he will never have to worry about me again."

I looked at him curiously, his eyes staring off into the wall behind me, his expression emotionless.

"Then I started to choke, I felt this overwhelming burning sensation in my lungs and looked at him, I was met with nothing but a cold stare as he watched me struggle for air. I couldn't believe I didn't notice what he was doing, what he was trying to do to me. I could barely react before I fell to the floor in agonizing pain, my insides felt like they were being ripped apart.

I finally choked out to him to ask what was happening to me, he said that I was dying and he smiled, the fucking bastard smiled. I looked over at the counter where he made the tea, the artifact was cracked open and I could tell that he put whatever was inside in my tea before he gave it to me. My mind started to cloud over.

Suddenly I remembered that the herbs inside the artifact were thousands of years old, it was no shocker that whatever was inside could be deadly for consumption. That much I knew from my studies, as I struggled for air he stood over me and cocked his head confidently, I asked him why, blood starting to spill out from my lips and nose, he leaned down and kissed me on my forehead and said. 'I just couldn't risk it."

I looked at him again, tears threatening to spring from my eyes from the depth of Sam's suffering. He's never been able to trust anyone, destroyed by everyone who claimed to love him, and now I was one of those people. I looked down at my clipboard and continued to write, not daring to look him in the eyes for fear of the pain I might find in them.

"I died, Dean, right there on his friend's dining room floor. Samuel Isley, Sam Winchester, they both died that night. I felt my organs failing, my heart slowing down, my body started to convulse. And just like that, I was gone, I felt it, my lifeforce, my humanity leaving my body, all that was left was nothing. But even though I was dead. Even though there was no breath in my throat, I still could see.

For a moment, I thought I was in hell, it was as if my soul was trapped inside my lifeless body and all I could do was watch the events happening around me from dead eyes. He watched me for a moment, to make sure I was dead, I tried to scream at him, tried to let him know that I was still in there, but he hoisted me from the floor and wrapped my body in a plastic bag.

Do you know what that's like, Doctor, knowing you're dead, knowing you're trapped and being able to do nothing about it?" he asked rhetorically, knowing that I would my answer would be no.

"It's terribly frightening, but that wasn't the worst part. Oh no, the story is just getting started. I soon felt him place me in the trunk of his Chevy, he drove for what felt like hours before he finally got somewhere, I assume, where he thought my body wouldn't be found. I heard him digging, hearing his huffs and hearing each thud as he shoveled the dirt from the hole.

The sound was deafening, it was as if it was all I could hear. He finally finished, and I heard the truck being opened. He looked at me curiously, and lifted me over his shoulder and threw me into the hole. He looked down at me, a small smile creeping on his face before he started covering my body in the dirt.

I screamed with everything I had, I tried to fight, tried to find a way to bring myself out of this death state, but nothing worked, no one can hear you in your mind. So I just laid there and watched as the dirt covered my body until there was nothing but darkness nothing but wetness of the soil hugging my body," he said, his voice breaking a little at the memory.

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I'd heard that some people might get sleep paralysis or even people who have been nearly buried before they woke up. I've heard of some scary things, but to be trapped inside your own mind, feeling like a corpse, yet, still being alive at the same time, that's completely new.

At the break in his voice I couldn't help, but let a tear fall from my eye. My sweet Sammy, how could someone do this to him.

"It was that living death that helped usher me into my new existence," he said the calm in his voice returning,

"No one else heard my cries, heard my sorrow, heard my fear. I was alone and buried and there was nothing I could do but lay there. Until finally, someone heard me, the Green felt my pain, I felt her arms wrap around me, her vines embedding themselves in my flesh, draining my human blood and replacing it with chlorophyll. Her roots filling my body giving me new organs, a new heartbeat, a new breath.

Her spores reaching out filling my brain with her juices and changing my brunette hair to a vibrant rose red. Her thorns filled my skin with poison and the kiss of death so as to never be weakened by love again. Before I knew it I felt myself rising to the surface of the ground I'd been buried under, rising and growing to the surface, reaching for the sun as strongly as a wild sunflower.

I felt myself breathe in the oxygen with a renewed purpose, saw the world through new eyes, and felt the Green as I never have before. I was no longer a human who just loved plants, but a fully evolved double agent for the Green, appearing human for one singular purpose, to infiltrate and dispose of the disease that is the human species."

I took in his words, from the way he spoke, I knew he believed everything he'd said. Although I do believe that his body was mutated, I don't believe that this Green that he keeps referring to is what gave him his purpose. Sam's been through a lot and to think that he belongs to a cause, to something bigger, is what is making this delusion so powerful.

I have to find a way to get through to him, so I as I finish jotting down my notes I regard him for a moment, the tears gone and replaced with a concern and understanding. If I was going to be of any use to Sam, I cannot keep allowing my emotions to cloud my judgment.

"So you believe that, 'the Green' chose you as its protector, a metaphorical knight in the fight against humanity," I asked.

"No, not metaphorical, literal, and don't speak to me as if you can even begin to comprehend the power or will of the Green. You would do well not to underestimate me, Doctor," he hung on that word in spite, I could feel his anger rising,

"I belong to the Green now Doctor, she has and will always protect me, unlike people, unlike you, she is loyal, as I am loyal to her. I will do anything to protect her, destroy anything, and kill anyone that stands in my way."

 _Don't let him bait you, Hartley,_ I thought to myself. I knew he was trying to get me to react, he wanted to fight, wanted me to get emotional because he knew how guilty I felt. But I had to stay strong have to stay vigilant in trying to get my brother back.

"So, tell me what happened after you decided to serve the Green, would you like to explain what you did after," I asked, letting him know that I wasn't backing down.

"Oh nice move Doctor, trying to stir the conversation to my dark deeds are we, well, if that's the direction you want to move in, I'd be happy to oblige." He stated, seeing right through my thinly veiled attempt at trying to get him to reveal more about what he did.

"Marc, was so stunned to see me waltzing back into the apartment, nearly naked, he was trying to clean up the evidence of our little unfortunate get together. He screamed and tried to run, but his friend had a lotus flower in the middle of his table, I called to her to help me, called to the trees and bushes around the building and they answered me.

They held him in place, vines wrapping around his body like a glove, he tried to scream again, but the vines had already covered his mouth. I walked closer to him, inspected his eyes and saw nothing but fear in them. I loved how afraid he was of me, how he couldn't even begin to explain what was happening or fathom the fact that I was still alive.

I petitioned the vines to release his mouth and before he could scream I felt a wave of pheromones escape my body and before I knew it he was looking at me like the first time he saw me. It was if I was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, I relished in his sudden change in emotion, and realized what kind of power I truly had over him, I regarded him for a moment, and asked him to give me a kiss.

In his pheromone-induced state, he begged me to, begged me to let him go after so he could sleep with me. So, I caressed his cheek and said yes, and then I kissed him. I could feel his life ebb at my lips, feel his life force bleed away, his body started to stiffen and the last thing he could say was, 'but, you promised,' and then he was gone.

The vines ripped him apart sending all parts of his body across the room blood spattering all over the place. Some of it got on my cheek, I lifted a finger to my face, and touched the blood on my face and licked it, and said, 'sorry babe, I couldn't risk it." He finished.

A deadly smile etched on his face, his seductive gaze turning murderous. For the first time in my life, I was truly afraid of my brother, he was a murderer. Though the asshole deserved it, I just couldn't fathom the fact that my sweet Sam, had the capacity for murder.

The most unsettling thing about the whole situation though wasn't this sudden realization, but the fact that I felt myself grow a tad hard at the depiction that Sam had given me. I didn't know or understand why, but the thought of him killing that guy, it made me excited and it scared me a little.

I was thankful I'd decided to sit down and my clipboard covered my lower regions, but the images were still in my head, my imagination running wild at his vivid description. I composed myself and pushed the thoughts away, this isn't right, Sam needs help, he needs to control himself. He needs to face the fact that he's killed people, not just assholes like Marc, but innocent people.

"How did it feel taking his life, were you proud of what 'the Green' made you do," I asked, careful to emphasize the words 'the Green' in order to make sure he understands that it's not its own entity, but a disassociated part of himself that he is trying to pretend is projected on a larger concept.

"The Green didn't force me to do anything, Doctor, I did. She merely provided the muscle. I killed him because I wanted to, just like I killed those men in the chemical plant, those assholes cutting down her forests, and those women dumping their waste in her swamps, I killed them to protect her. I killed them because I wanted to. It was my choice, and I'd do it all again if it meant I was keeping her safe," he responded coldly.

"What about the guards you killed here, they weren't hurting you were they, they were just doing their jobs trying to keep you from hurting more people, and you killed them. They had families, Sam, children," I pleaded, hoping the shock of hearing what he had done, my evoke some emotion from him, some form of regret.

"Those guards weren't as innocent as they might appear, they knew what they were doing, they lord the power they have over us here as if we are lower than animals. I merely showed them what true power looked like. And as for their families go, it wouldn't be the first time I tore a family apart and reveled in their destruction.

Humanity is a disease, and just like any real biochemist, it is my job to work day in and day out to rid the Green's perfect body of the disease that ails it. By whatever means necessary." He stated simply, his resolve clear and unshakable.

"What do you mean you tore a family apart?" I asked when he revealed that information I saw a flicker of something else flash across his face. I couldn't quite place it, but there was something else he was hiding, something about his past that flashed across his face, but from his reaction to my question, I could tell I may have pushed too far.

"You know Doctor, I'm tired of talking, and quite frankly, looking at you disgusts me. So please leave, I have nothing else to say to you," he stated plainly.

"You know I can't do that, Sammy we need to talk about—" I began.

"My name, is Poison Ivy, call me Sammy again, and you'll see just how poisonous I really am." He stated, for a moment I could feel the ground quake beneath me, it was subtle but enough to feel it, I looked at Sam, his eyes darkening intensely as his fist clenched. However, as soon as quickly as the ground shook, the chemical in his cell started to grow more cloudy as if sensing his power spike.

He drops to his knees trying to catch his breath and the black in his eyes faded to their natural green color. I looked away for a second and heard the bustle of scientist coming down the stairs as the alarms sounded. I looked around and noticed that they were at least three lab coats coming down the stairs, immediately disregarding me to check the monitors. They keyed in a code of some kind and the chemical thickened more.

I could hear Sam whimper and the sudden influx of the chemical and part of me wanted to stop them from what they were doing. I knew whatever it was, it was hurting him, but I knew that if I said anything, if I made any move to stop them they would know that I didn't see him as just a patient but as something more.

"What happened, Dr. Quinzel?" one of the older lab-coated gentlemen asked me.

"Um—I don't know, I was doing my evaluation and he just—the room started to shake a little," I said quickly, trying my best not to implicate Sam.

"You must be getting through to him, his abilities are tied to his emotions. The more or stronger the emotion he feels the more powerful his connection to plant life becomes. I think we might have to up the dosage during your sessions with him," he said quickly, my head cleared for a second and I thought of what he said.

"Were you monitoring our session, is that why you responded so quickly," I accused, keeping my composure strong so as not to be intimidated by yet another coworker. Not only would their intrusion into our private conversation have resulted in me losing my license but possibly losing my job.

"Of course not Dr. Quinzel, there are monitors and each cell, especially for the metahuman inmates, we have to keep a close watch on a spike in their abilities just in case they try to escape. It's not so much were listening in as monitoring the changes in their biochemistry during their sessions.

We have to ensure your safety as much as Arkham or Gotham. This Poison Ivy guy may be nuts, but he's got a whole hell of a lot of power that if left unchecked could wind up killing all of us." The lab coated man explained matter of factly.

"Please refrain from calling them nuts in my presence, they are just people who've had tough lives, they need our help, not our ridicule," I responded, somewhat fearful of how the doctor would respond. I really did hate hearing people call these people crazy it was just wrong.

"Didn't mean to offend you Dr. Quinzel, just a slip of the tongue. I've heard about how much you identify with your patients, I do apologize. You may have to end your session with him however, he isn't going to be very coherent once the gas kicks in, so you won't get much out of him," He responded quickly before returning to his typing on the monitor.

I hated how he'd said it though, I'd only be there two weeks and people were already gossiping about me, it did make me feel a little better that he was respectful of my wishes instead of berating me like the front desk clerks. Thanks to my father's severely abusive upbringing, I'd forced myself to learn how to defend myself once I left his house, physically I was more than capable, but psychologically, I'm still that little kid that his father made him feel like nothing.

I walk away from the lab technicians and walk toward Sam lying on the floor in his glass cell. His expression somewhat dazed and his body somewhat limp.

"I'll be back Sa- Ivy, I won't leave you again, I promise," I whispered, catching my sidestep at almost calling his name, fearing he'd react negatively. For a second I turned to leave but then I heard him whisper back and I turned to face him. He looked at me, his eyes, still somewhat glassy from the chemical they were pumping into his cell, and spoke.

"I...hate you." He choked out, his words renewing the pain that had quelled slightly. I could feel that he meant it, and I still couldn't believe he'd said it. I knew he was angry, I knew he had a right to hate me, but it still hurt. It hurt more than anything I could imagine. I walked away before any more tears could escape in front of my colleagues.

 _Stop crying you little fag_ , my father's voice rang in my head loudly, at his echoing command my tears dissipated, filling me with anger instead of pain. At this moment any feeling was better than the feelings Sam was bringing to the surface in me.

I walked briskly up the stairs and shook off the feeling that I was experiencing. I couldn't afford to be this emotional. Not now, not when I still have one more patient to see. I walked down the long and loud hallway, still loud from the inmates jeering and made my way to the elevator. I clicked the letter D, and typed in Harleen's pin code.

I jotted down a reminder to ask Sam about that family he brought up and I pulled the papers up and changed out the evaluation sheet for my next patient. I waited for the ding that signified I was on level D, as the elevator opened and I wrote down the name of my next patient in the box: Mr. Joker.


	6. Chapter 6

As I walked down the hall, the heightened security was evident. There were no glass cells or see-through chambers, every cell had a steel door with a small four bar window near the top of it and small cubie for food tray entry. I hadn't been down to section D yet because my security clearances were only for sections A-C.

So taking in my new surroundings was quite the shock, I'd heard of the beefed up security but this was an entirely new level of precaution. It wasn't just the cells that made it more secure, but the very air was filled with hopelessness and loneliness. There was only one dimly lit fluorescent-lit that illuminated the foreboding hallway and the slight heckle from a vocal inmate, but for the most part, the air was quiet.

I could hear the guards doing their rounds, however, on this floor, there were four sets of guards instead of the normal two sets of five. They passed me by without so much as a greeting and I continued my stride to the room number that Harleen sent me in her email.

I continued my trepidations stride down the long hallway and followed the signs as I passed by dozens of inmates and session taking place, as I walked I quickly reviewed the file that Harleen linked to me. There still wasn't much to go on about this guy's life. From what I could gather from the notes of the other psychiatrist's I found that he had a rough childhood, common among victims suffering from borderline personality disorder.

His disassociation of his true self and his projected self could be a result severe parental neglect, much like Sam. His cries for attention through his antics and his violence could all stem from a very lonely childhood. It's likely he wasn't surrounded by many friends growing up and he is using his odd sense of humor as a way of coping with his crippling loneliness.

I also happened upon a sentence that gave a reason for his ghostly complexion, it stated that he fell into some chemical vat that bleached his skin permanently and somehow pushed him further into his psychosis. Some of the notations even stated that it may have been a contributing factor to his near genius level intellect. That somehow the chemicals worked their way into his brain and essentially enhanced his natural intelligence and even gave him moderately enhanced strength.

Apparently, the chemicals affected him enough to enhance his natural gifts, but not enough to make him a full metahuman, or enough to have him locked away in Section C. By all accounts, he's just a slightly stronger person than most his size and smarter than the average scholar, but still completely human. 

But even as I was making all of these notations, something inside me just didn't feel at ease, something about the statements I was reading just did not feel like him. There was something underneath the surface of what I was reading and who this person really was, what his real motives were. I pushed the uneasiness away, reminding myself that this is not my patient, it's Harleen's patient, not my own. I don't need to delve any deeper than I already had.

Before I'd even reached the door, I was already evaluating the entirety of this man's life, I was diagnosing him as quickly as possible and jotting my notes down for Harleen so she would already know what she was stepping into. I knew that these were just me brainstorming ideas of what the cause of his darkness could be, but I really wanted to get this evaluation over with as soon as possible.

I had to get back to my office and review my notes for Sam so I could focus on a patient that was actually on my roster. I was already over this Joker, and even though he may have been interesting to look at on the picture that I saw on the monitor, I only have one purpose for being at Arkham, and that was to get my friend back.

I finally made it to the evaluation room assigned to Harleen and saw that there were two guards, a large and broad-chested African American with the name Williams stitched onto his bulletproof vest's jacket pocket.

The man alongside a smaller, but still toned, Hispanic man, with the name Lopez stitched into his. They were stationed on either side of the door. They both had stern strong looks about them that reminded me of military generals, no doubt trained to protect the psychiatrist from more aggressive inmates. Their pistols were at the ready, with their taser, mace, and identification badges located on their army fatigued belts.

"Identification." Williams was the first to speak his voice cool and monotone, with a slight urgency to it to show he meant business.

"Dr. Hartley Quinzel," I showed him my badge, he eyed it curiously, "I am filling in for Dr. Sorkin for today, she couldn't complete her evaluations today, so I will be taking over the evaluation for Mr. Joker."

"Clearance number," Williams responded, not looking me in the eye.

"Clearance number 666BX1,"I said simply, thankful for my reliable memory, I'd only see the number once in the email and nearly overlooked it when I was reading.

"Pin Number." He stated.

"25963," I responded. The guards stepped aside and unlocked the door.

"You may enter, Dr. Quinzel, be warned, this is a dangerous criminal, we understand your need for privacy during the evaluation process, but do not take his appearance as a sign to relax, he may look innocent, but this man will kill you if he is given the chance. One of us will accompany you during your evaluation to ensure your safety," Lopez stated simply as Williams nodded in agreement.

I found myself slightly surprised at the slight hesitation in Lopez's voice when he said, 'he may look innocent,' I've already seen the man in the picture, sure he may appear that way, but I was not blind to the darkness in those pearly blues. I could see it as plainly as I could see the men standing before me.

I knew what I was getting into, and I knew what this man was capable of from reading only a few sections of his ever-growing rap sheet. I knew this was no man to toy with, this is why this was an in and out situation, no matter how badly I may want to know more about what makes him tick, Sam is my primary focus.

"I appreciate your worry, Mr. Lopez, but I am more than capable of defending myself, thank you," I state back quickly. If there was one thing my mother taught me from her blatant suppression of my father's abuse was that you should never rely on someone else to rescue you. Because no one ever will.

"It isn't worrying, Dr. Quinzel, it is simply a statement of what is going to happen, I will accompany you because this man will kill you if the opportunity presents itself," he said coldly, as he stood to the side of me his gun in hand.

"Very well, as long as you only interfere when necessary, even though he is not my patient, I still want him to know that he can be open and honest with me during this evaluation," I say to Williams, he nodded and pushed open the door and steps to the wall adjacent to the door. 

I walk into the room behind him and look at the plain white table and see two chairs, one sitting on either end. I hear the door close behind me with a loud click and heard Williams on the other side lock it. The tension in the room was palpable, I looked around the room and saw the patient standing in the left corner of the room his head to the wall and his back facing me.

"Dr. Sorkin, such a pleasure to make your—" the man started and stopped suddenly when he turned to face me. The man that I was faced with was nothing like the picture that I saw in my office on my computer. No, this man was someone completely different.

He still had his green hair, the shockingly pale skin, and red lip stains, no doubt from the years of applying the same smile on his face every single day, but there was still something else. The man in the picture looked, much more manic, out of it if you will, but this man was calm, calculating, and uncharacteristically attractive.

It took everything in me not to gulp at the sight of him, his plain tan shirt accentuated his slender but powerful frame and toned arms. The tan pants hugging tightly to parts of him that I tried my best to avoid my gaze from. He was about the same height as me from what I could tell, green eyebrows, a sort of peach fuzz that outlined a mustache of sorts.

Now I knew what the guard meant by not letting his looks fool you, the man that stood before me, looked nothing at all like a mass murderer, but with the exception of his signature pieces, he looked like he could be your next-door neighbor. Seemingly sensing my thoughts, he looked me over as well and smiled widely as he tilted his head to cast a shadow over his eyes.

He looked at me like I was fresh meat like I was some new plaything that he couldn't wait to get his hands on, I quickly, shook off my thoughts and remembered that the man that stood before me was no one to underestimate.

Already, I had noticed the tell-tell mark of something hard beneath his pants, no doubt to use against one of the guards or me, I doubt that Lopez noticed the tint, but after years of fighting with bullies and being abused, you gain an acute sense of awareness that danger was imminent. 

I notice everything even when others overlook it, he saunters over and takes a seat, with elbows on the table resting his chin on his clasped hands, the smile never leaving his face.

"You're new," he says excitedly, as he stares directly into my eyes, I avert my gaze and turn to my attention to the evaluation sheet.

"Are you going to be my new babysitter?" he asks.

"Dr. Sorkin is out for the evening, so I will be handling your preliminary evaluation, however, she will still be the psychiatrist handling your talk therapy sessions," I state matter-of-factly, trying my best to mask any attraction I may have shown when I first made eye contact with him.

He wasn't going to have the upper hand, I was a psychiatrist, he is my patient, not the other way around.

"So formal, Dr..." he trails off, attempting to get me to fill in the blanks.

"Read your file, neglectful parents, murder, torture, and even that little accident you had a few years back. All the building blocks to your psychosis, to your murderous mind, but we both know that isn't really the truth. Don't we?" Not only had I evaded his question, but I shocked myself at my sudden challenge in my voice. I had no idea where it came from, I screamed at myself internally.

 _What the hell are you doing Hartley, this man is no one to toy with, he's not even your patient, stop it_ _,_ I thought.

I told myself not to push, I told myself that this was not my patient, just stick to what's in front of you. Stick to the evaluation sheet, but that curiosity from earlier, that sudden need to redeem myself from my interaction with Sam, my desperate need to get to the bottom of what was going on with my patients without hesitance, those needs were overpowering my need to remain objective.

The moment I read his file, the moment I saw his photo, he was already my patient in my head. My mind was running through his file line by line the moment I opened that email, I may not have been any use to Sam at that time because of my emotions, but this Joker person, his attitude, his presence, his story.

The reason I became a psychiatrist, all of that was flashing through my head subconsciously, and the moment I laid eyes on him, the moment I began talking, I had already decided what was going to be said.

He regarded my abruptness with a curious smile and cocked his head slightly as he ran his fingers through his untamed green locks and answered.

"Do tell." His voice as low but had a lightness to it as he spoke. I wondered for a moment if his voice always sounded so light, it was as if he was dancing on each word to make sure his point was made.

"It's not about the murder, nor is it about these so-called elaborate jokes. It's about the power. It's about the control." I stated simply, still shocked at my own words, but my mouth had taken on a life of its own, it was no longer Hartley that was talking anymore, but Dr. Quinzel.

"Control?" he responded.

"For someone who claims to just be doing a preliminary evaluation, you sure seem to know an awful lot about what you think is true," he states, his eyes dancing and his smile growing, that same comical tone as if every sentence he says is going to be followed by a punchline,

"Because if you think my motive is control. Then I don't think you've been following my career, puddin'."

I ignore my slight intrigue at hearing him call me puddin' and continue,

"I don't have to follow your career to know who you are, its obvious that you are quite the performer, you create all this mayhem, all that chaos, while you stand, unfazed, in the eye of the storm. Because in that storm, everything around you gets turned upside down, but you."

He rises from his seat menacingly, and I have to will myself not to be equally terrified and slightly aroused at the dark look in his eyes. I can sense the guard behind me tense at his action but he doesn't make a move just yet, I suppose waiting until he sees something actually happen. I gather my thoughts quickly and resume,

"Hiding behind your self-proclaimed madness is a form of control," I stated as I watched, him curiously.

He eyed me again, "I'm sure several doctors here would disagree with my 'madness' being self-proclaimed."

"Oh, but it is, you may be dark Mr. Joker, you may be twisted, but you are far from mad. Madness has no direction, no drive, it simply does as it wills, you are not a man who just does. You are a man who wills. You are a man who likes to be on top, likes to be in control, likes being in charge.

You are a man who knows exactly what you want and isn't afraid to go after it, no matter who gets hurt in the process. What they define as madness, I define as a darkness without a leash able to roam free devouring any and everything in its sight."

He appears to take in my words for a moment when furrows his brows, his smile never wavering but moving slightly.

"Take your antics with the church as a prime example, on Thursday, January 3, 2015, you posed as an angel in front of a church of devoted followers, you deemed yourself a messenger from God named Castiel who was going to deliver the church God's message. Interestingly enough you killed everyone in the Church in very specific manners, reminiscent of each of the seven deadly sins.

This may have been just a fact to other people, but not to me, see during my theology classes we learned a lot about the significance of names, and how they played a large roll in several religions. Several believed that invoking the name of an angel would grant the user some form of power in a manner of speaking.

Castiel was a variant of the angel name Cassiel, the archangel of tears and solitude. Do you know what that tells me Mr. Joker?" I asked, shocking myself at being able to remember this section of his rap sheet but it stuck with me when I was reviewing it, and I hadn't even realized it.

His smile falters, and an emotion crosses his face, however, just as quickly as if flashed across, it dissipated, not staying long enough for me to read it. 

"And what exactly does that tell you, Doctor," he responds, his voice hanging on the 'Doc' as if to emphasize his interest. It wasn't like when Sam called me that as a way to snipe at me, no this was as if he was leaning into like he was beckoning me.

"It tells me that everything about what you told us about your childhood is a lie. You weren't raised by neglectful parents, no, you were raised by devout parents. Parents who served some God, or higher power, and often times forced you or made you sit and listen to prayers and worships.

Every single day you were possibly made to pray to a deity you hated, and this is why you hated those people, why you killed them. See, I knew there was something off about you the moment I read your file, I knew there was something off about that crime on your sheet because it did not fit the image that they painted of you. You're a man of punchlines and twisted humor, no doubt a result of being forced to repress your creativity in a deeply religious household.

But a crime with such accuracy, such precision, and so specific, I didn't get the joke. Because there wasn't one." I stated, a smile starting to inch on my face.

I hated how much I knew, hated how in the few minutes that I had his file, I was already committing his information to memory. It was like I was a sponge and the moment I read over his file I absorbed every drop of him I could because I only had one session with this Clown Prince of Crime, I had to leave a lasting impression. Something inside me, a pride of some sort, wanted him to know that I wasn't like the others, I was far better.

He inched closer his hands balling into fists, and his smile going from a playful simper to a menacing and deadly looking grin. I relished it, seeing him look at me with nothing but rage in his eyes, I knew I hit a nerve, I knew I pushed him, I knew he was ready to fall. I made my point, I and now it was time to bring it home, I heard the cocking of the guards gun behind me, and it snapped me back into the moment. Apparently, I hadn't been the only one who noticed his change in demeanor.

"Officer Lopez, that won't be necessary," I said as I turned my head and held up one hand to signal him to stop.

The Joker looked at me as I turned back to him, his surprise evident that I would turn tell the guard that I was okay when it was clear that I wasn't going to be for much longer. But then out of nowhere, he started to laugh. At first, it started as a light chuckle, turning into a nearly breathless belly chuckle until finally settling on a cackling witch's cackle.

This time it was my turn to be surprised, I have never heard a laugh so eerie, so dark, so petrifying. It fit his persona perfectly and it sort of snapped me out of my fierceness. Why was I baiting this guy, why was I trying so hard to leave my mark, why was I testing my luck?

This guy could no doubt kill me without a flinch or care in the world, yet, something in me, something deep down, wanted him to make sure that he remembered me, so that when I finally revealed my name.

When I finally made it clear who I was, he would always know I was the one who knew something more than just the surface. Maybe it was the doctor in me, maybe it was the aching need to succeed, or maybe it was just my need to be better than Sorkin. I wanted him to remember me when he talked to her during her sessions with him, with the knowledge that she will never know him like I could, given more time.

This man, this guy, he was my holy grail, my perfect Crème' Brule, he was my diamond in the rough, and if this was my only shot at making a lasting impression. I was going to do whatever measure it took to make sure he would never forget me.

"Oh I like this one, different than the privileged pre-madonna's they usually send down here, girls who've never had to endure struggle, real pain, but you, my boy, you've got spunk kid, been through some real shit, haven't you?" he asks, the jovial grin, replacing the dark one that was just there for only a moment prior, he was evading, I could feel it.

"Let me guess, you were a poor kid, home life, not so good, but you were smart weren't you, smart enough to get out, to be better, got scholarships, went to college, and blah blah blah," he mocked,

"But there was something missing from your life, something that you're hiding, some 'darkness' that you're trying to suppress." He stated, using my own words against me.

"Cute, but everyone's got something to hide Mr. Joker, even you, maybe one day someone will figure out what exactly that is. Who knows, might even be Dr. Sorkin, but I want you to know something," I rose from my seat and walked directly over to him.

I could see the security guard tense up and had his gun at the ready, he looked like he wanted to say something, but he resisted the urge. I continued,

"You might be able to fool everyone else in Gotham, the doctors, the people, even yourself. But you can't-fool me, I see right through your façade, right through your humor, I see the broken man behind the 'madman'.

I see the loneliness in your eyes and one day, there's going to be someone that you can't hide from, that you can't control completely, and that's the day that we will all see just who really hides behind this mask," I looked him squarely in the eye, arm reaching distance from his body, he was still smiling but I could sense his surprise at how close I was to him.

I'm sure he thought I would be afraid to be this close, but any fear, and reservation I may have had, was gone and it was riveting. I turned my back to him and looked over my shoulder at the glare of something gleaming metal of something sharp, couldn't make out what it was because it was still hiding in his hand, but I knew that the next thing I said would determine if I lived or died in this next moment.

I knew that if I said the wrong thing or said nothing at all, he'd kill me right there, I knew it for certain, but it didn't matter, I relished the adrenaline and found the words I felt he'd appreciate the most.

"Oh and, if you're thinking of stabbing me with whatever is in your hand, you'd better hope you don't miss," I state deadly serious, suppressing every ounce of excitement in my voice to ensure he knew that I wasn't joking around,

"Because if you do, I'll put my foot so far up your ass, you'll thoroughly understand what talking with a foot in your mouth really feels like."

He smiled darkly and I turned to walk away again, only looking back one last time and he'd sat back down in his seat. I looked at Lopez and nothing but sheer shock and confusion ran across his face, I smiled confidently, and said,

"I think we're done here."

"I believe so," he said, a quiet reverence present in his tone.

He knocked on the door to signal Williams to unlock it and the door opened and before I walked out I looked back one last time.

"Oh, and Mr. Joker," I said, he turned to me.

"It's Dr. Quinzel, Dr. Hartley Quinzel," I stated finally, and he smiled darkly, pearly whites visible, as the door closed behind Lopez and me.

I rushed down the hallway, back to the elevator and once inside, once the doors closed in front of me, I broke down. I pushed my back against the wall and slid down to the floor, I couldn't believe what I had said, any of what I said. I looked at my clipboard and looked at all the information, how did that happen? How did any of it happen?

And why was is so thrilling? No one, not even Sam has ever made me feel like that before. I was more than turned on, I was in ecstasy. I couldn't feel my face, my breathing was ragged, my dick was harder than it has ever been before, how could one man how this strong of an effect on me. It was different, he was different than all the other patients I'd helped, he was somehow better, he was everything I'd ever wanted to help in just one person.

He was a person who'd completely given into their darkness, their pain, their wickedness, and it made him all the more exhilarating. I'd never stood up for myself like that before, not with words, hell not even with those assholes at the front desk. I was never the confrontational type, I was always submissive to everyone else's will, but this man, this man was somehow able to unleash something in me that I didn't even know was there.

I thought the years of abusive from my dad, the lack of a real relationship or friendship with anyone other than Sam, and the lack of an exciting life all together has crushed any hope I had at being confident, being powerful, being fierce. It was all too much, too fast, I could barely breathe, I had no idea how good this could feel, but just as quickly as it had come, it left.

This was not my patient, this was not my friend, and this was definitely not anything more than a person of interest. I rose from the elevator floor and finally keyed in the pin code to get to rise to the higher levels. It was just that one time, that one meeting, we're never going to see each other again, I know that, the only thing I need to be focused on is my Sammy and how to make him better.

The Joker is in the past now, he's Sorkin's problem now, I made my mark. Just as much as he will forever be apart of my memory, I know I seared my way into his.

________________________________________________________________________________

"Interesting," said the Joker, twiddling the switchblade in his hands. The man was right, the Joker had planned on killing the psychiatrist, didn't really matter who came through the door, he'd expected Sorkin and thought he'd just kill her to get her out of the way, he hated the woman, but she definitely had a body that he'd love to fuck, and given the opportunity he just might.

But he wanted to kill, he needed to, it was just had an itch he couldn't scratch and every since he was a young boy hearing those sermons, those preachers condemning him to hell for his crass humor, the idea of them dying, of people dying, always brought a smile to his face. So no matter how much he'd considered getting into Dr. Sorkin's panties, his lust for the kill would've overpowered his need for release.

But seeing that man walk in, that shockingly attractive young man come in threw him for a loop. The Joker was not gay himself, never even considered, but even he had to admit, that Dr. Quinzel was far from ugly. His green eyes, strong jawline, deadly serious stare, he looked like he was straight from a catalog, but he'd seemed as if he was completely unaware of it.

Then, he'd started talking, he started telling the Joker things about himself that he hadn't faced in years, things that he had been trying to suppress for years. He hated someone knowing things about him, such personal things. He was sure that no one would have caught onto that church murder.

He was sure no one would understand the significance of him choosing to call himself Castiel, and he was sure no one would ever, say that he was broken. Yet, this guy, this Dr. Quinzel, somehow knew things all these personal details about his life, and he only had his file for what seemed like years, but he knew it was only for a few short hours.

He didn't like that, he was going to have to fix that, no one can ever have that effect on the Joker. He's used to being in control, he's used to knowing and getting exactly what he wants, no matter the cost, that much he could agree with Dr. Quinzel about. So, when he was surely going to rid himself of the psychiatrist, kill him so as to never have to worry about that happening again, but then he said something.

That threat, it was odd, and he could tell that the boy was new to the whole standing up for yourself concept. But it was still enticing. It was still intriguing, the Joker's life had become somewhat predictable, even the unpredictable was still predictable. It wasn't until today, that he'd remembered what he loved doing the most.

Destroying someone from the inside out. The Joker knew the look, he saw it in the man from the moment he laid eyes on him, he knew the man was gay and that he was attracted to him, he knew that the man, even under the tough psychiatrist façade he was putting up, wanted nothing more than for someone, anyone to notice him.

He was beyond desperate, the Joker may have been broken, but this man, he was damaged, right down to the core.

Over his many years of torture and murder, he'd picked up a few tricks, one of his best is finding out what a person loves most in the world, and tearing it from their arms. In this case, the man wants love, so that's what the Joker will give him, love, or in any case, a very good imitation of it. 

That's the reason the Joker spared his life because killing him right then would have been entirely too easy, he wanted him to suffer, and how does one make another suffer.

By giving them exactly what they want, tearing down their entire world, and then ripping everything from them, until they're left with nothing, and the only thing that remains of them is a shell of their former self.

"Very interesting..." he said to himself again closing the switchblade and smiling deviously to himself.


	7. Chapter 7

I was sitting in my office, looking over my evaluations from the day prior, I was doing everything within my power to just focus on what I had to do, but he kept popping in my head. Every second I would try to change the direction of my thoughts or move around, or do anything to get him out of my head, would only make me think about him more.

I'd remembered yesterday's events with the Joker with perfect precision, it was as if my mind was on instant replay throughout the entirety of my workday. The feelings were the most present in my head at the moment, the fear, the anticipation, the thrill. I'd never known excitement like this, and I don't think my body was ready to give it up just yet.

As soon as my workday was up, I practically ran home, and masturbated fiercely, he'd turned me on so much and I just couldn't contain myself. I came violently and fully on my kitchen floor and the release that it gave me was something I hadn't felt since Sam.

Sam may have been with dozens of guys and girls alike, but he was my first and my only. I'm only twenty-six, and the only guy I have ever been with was my best friend. It's not like I wasn't offered the chance, it's just that the guys that were usually attracted to me weren't my type, and the guys that were my type weren't interested.

Unlike Sam, I didn't exude a sexiness that made men and women go wild, even before he was able to literally put people under his thrall, I'm sure that without that he would still be just as sultry. I was the exact opposite, so the whole having sex thing was just out of the question for me. I'd been fine with it because Sam and I stopped fooling around during sophomore year, so I've had ten years to work on controlling my urges.

Sure, it was hard, both literally and figuratively, but once I made myself to busy to think about my sexual appetite, it soon faded away. It wasn't until yesterday, I remembered what it was like to be turned on, at first with Sam, and then the final nail in the head with the Joker. What frightened me the most was just how much of an effect this man had on me.

Sam and I have actually slept together, and sure I may have been turned on at the sight of his nearly naked body, but I was still able to contain my libido for the most part. But the moment I laid eyes on that green haired man, the way he spoke to me, the look in his eyes, the fear he etched through my body, I was completely out of control.

I knew it had to be a result of years of repressing my sexual desire, I knew that the reason that I was feeling that way was just that deep down I was still searching for some excitement in my life, and this man was giving that to me tenfold. That was the good thing about studying psychiatry, it helped you rationalize the irrational, and helped me realize that the response I had was entirely normal.

Thankfully, that was the last time I was going to see that man, and I no longer had to worry about further analyzing my emotions. It was just a freak occurrence is all, a simple transference, I was sad about Sam, hurt, and that man was just there, a metaphorical charge that jumpstarted the dead battery left by Sam.

And that little incident that happened when I got home wasn't about the Joker, it was about Sam, and the sexual relationship we once shared together. It was just me trying to get it all out of my system, and now its expelled, now I can give my full attention to my actual patients.

Satisfied with my explanation, I went back to the task at hand, I finished up the last of imputing my evaluations and focused on the notes that I took from the first session I had with same the other day. Our second session was happening today and I wanted to make sure that I had all my facts together and went in with a better strategy than the first.

I definitely hit a nerve talking about Marc, but that comment he made about destroying a family, that was one that seemed to peak my interest most.

He'd said it with the slightest tinge of regret that only someone who's known him for as long as I have would even notice. There was something there, his darkness may have tried to hide it, but I know there was something hiding beneath it. Sam may have given in to his darkness, but there was still humanity in him, he wasn't the monster that those lab technicians and his file describe him as.

He's just so passionate that sometimes his need to fulfill that passion forces him to disregard his morals. I know he's not a bad person, not deep down, I just have to reach him. The moment I saw his expression when I walked into the room, I knew that there was hope, that he wasn't completely lost to me.

If he'd given over to his darkness completely, he wouldn't have been as angry as he was, this so-called 'Green' has taken complete control of him, not now, not ever, if I have anything to say about it.

I was continuing to review my notes and get prepped for Sam's session when my desk phone started to ring. I looked at the caller ID and winced when I read the name. Reluctantly I picked up the phone and answered.

"Hello, Dr. Quinzel speaking"

"Hi Har- Dr. Quinzel, its Harleen, look I wanted to say thanks for helping me out yesterday with the Joker guy, hope he didn't give you that much of a hard time, I decided to call you from my office, instead of popping by unexpected, I know you don't like it when I do." Dr. Sorkin's annoyingly cheery voice stated.

"No problem, Dr. Sorkin, and I appreciate your consideration at choosing to call me instead of coming by unannounced. Not that I don't appreciate your visits, I just have a lot to catch up on with the whole coming in during the middle of the year and being distracted from my work, can prove to be quite frustrating at times.

As far as your patient goes, he seems like he's going to be a tough one to get through to, I see why others have had trouble with him, he's not exactly a big sharer," I lie, for one I hated her coming by even when I wasn't busy and two, even though other psychiatrists have had issues getting through to him, I didn't.

I knew that if I had the time, I could completely recondition this man to manage his darkness and one day be a part of society again. Just like I was going to do with Sammy. Although part of me was hoping that the rumors about him killing most of his psychiatrist are true and a dark thought passes through my head.

I thought about what would have happened had Dr. Sorkin done his evaluation instead of me, she would not have seen the cues that I picked up on, she would have definitely annoyed the Joker with her unrelentingly cheery attitude and overly enthusiastic attitude. I smiled at the dark images that flipped through my head at the idea of what exactly would have happened.

The Joker would have definitely killed her without a second thought, and then she would have been gone, out of my life, never having to hear that terrible Bronx accent again. I shook off the dark thoughts and had to ground myself in reality. These intrusive thoughts can be overwhelming sometimes but I knew how to repress them, I knew how to keep them at bay, and just like that, I was back.

I may hate this woman with every fiber of my being, for reasons I cannot explain, but she didn't deserve death, she didn't deserve to be killed, sure she was beyond annoying but she was a nice girl.

"Well, about that, um that's actually why I called you," she started.

"What happened, did my evaluation notes not go through, I can resend them if you like, I believe I sent it to the right email," I said, quickly looking through my computer to find the document to resend, anything to get her off my phone as fast as I could.

"No, it's not that Dr. Quinzel, I received the email earlier today, everything on your end is fine," she started again, still hanging onto the end of the sentence, as if she wanted to say something, but didn't know how.

"Then what's wrong, Dr. Sorkin, was there something unclear that you needed clarification on, or what?" I asked, trying to force my voice to stay level, but the annoyance was already peeking through. I hated it when people walked around something they wanted to say.

"Well, it turns out, shortly after I received your email, I was informed, by upper management, that they um, they decided to get another um," she stumbled over her words.

"Please, Dr. Sorkin, what is it?" I said, this time unable to hide my annoyance at her dancing around the issue.

"Well, I knew you didn't have to do the evaluation for me and I'm really glad you did that for me, it was really well done, but it turns out that they, well they wanted to go in a different direction, psychiatrist wise so um, he's...he's been reassigned," she stated finally.

So that was the reason she was trying not to tell me, she knew that I might be upset at her for wasting time out of my day to do an evaluation for one of her patients, and she wasn't even his psychiatrist anymore. Even though I wasn't actually upset, I realized how opportune this situation was.

Yes, I didn't actually mind that my evaluation won't be used because talking with the Joker had been a thrilling experience. But she didn't know that it was, all she knew was that she'd asked me to help her with her workload, I did, regardless of how much of my own work I had to get done, and the extra work I did for her wasn't even going to be used.

This meant that she was trying to gauge my reaction, and I thought for a moment, this could be my chance. If she thought I was upset with her, maybe she'd leave me alone for a week or two and I'd finally be free of her for a while.

"So, you're telling me that I completed an entire evaluation for you, just to have another psychiatrist be assigned to the patient?" I stated, feigning anger.

"I know I know Dr. Quinzel, I didn't know until today either, I promise if I'd known that Strange was going to reassign the patient I would never have asked you to do it," she said, pretending to be sorry, I could tell that she didn't really care that she'd wasted my time, but she was sure putting up a good act to make it look like she did.

For a moment, I wondered why her regret sounded now, but a few moments ago, it was more realistic. It was like she was trying to say, 'Eh, I really don't want to tell him, but I guess I have to,' and 'oh, he's mad, just pretend to be sorry, and he'll be lapdog again, just wait.'

"It doesn't matter Dr. Sorkin, you understand that I have a lot going on with trying to figure stuff out here, I did this as a favor to you and now you're telling me that this favor wasn't even appreciated, nor necessary," I responded, angry at the false tone in her voice.

"It was definitely appreciated Dr. Quinzel, you know that, its just that things happened that were beyond my control, it won't happen again, and look at it this way, at least I still owe you a favor now, and because of the inconvenience, lets make it a really big favor," she reasoned, the nonchalant tone in her voice was somewhat bothersome, but I decided to overlook that.

Sure, I could keep this charade going and probably get her to leave me be for a while, but the prospect of her owing me a big favor outweighed my overall hatred of her. As the saying goes, keep your friends close, and your enemies closer. Having an enemy owe me a big favor can come quite handy, even if the said enemy doesn't even know we're enemies.

"Very well, Dr. Sorkin, a big favor it is," I state simply, smiling a little at the prospect of having her owe me one.

"Then we're good?" she asks.

"Sure," I say, bile rising in my throat a little, however, there were still questions that I had. Even though I wanted her off my phone, there was still something I needed to know.

"Dr. Sorkin, do you know why they choose to reassign him or who they choose to take your place?" I ask.

"No, not really, they just told me that someone else was taking my place, the order came directly from Strange, and you know what he says goes." She answers plainly.

"Don't we all, well, have a good day Dr. Sorkin," I say, she begins to say her goodbye to, but before she even completes her sentence, I hand up the receiver.

God, that woman just infuriates me to my core, but what she said about him getting reassigned was curious. Strange never interfere unless he's got plans for someone in particular, I wondered for a second who decided to replace her with but I let the thought fade away as I continued reviewing my notes on Sam.

A few minutes pass by and my phone rings again, I look down at the receiver and notice that the caller ID simply says unknown at the top. I pick it up and answer cautiously.

"Hello, Dr. Quinzel speaking,"

"Dr. Quinzel, I do hope that I haven't caught you at a bad time." I immediately recognized the voice on the receiver at my ear. If my skin crawling and the hairs on the back of my neck weren't enough to recognize his voice, the eerie crawl along his words and growl as he spoke made me very aware of who it was.

The voice was none other than the chief of psychiatry and director of Arkham, Dr. Hugo Strange.

"Not at all, Dr. Strange, is there any issue that I am unaware of, were my evaluations not submitted on time," I respond, immediately trying to figure out why I was being called by the Head of Arkham, I knew that being called by him was a sign of trouble.

Anytime the boss calls you during work hours, something has to be up, I did a complete rundown in my head of all the deadlines that he'd given me when I was hired and pulled up my calendar on my computer to make sure I didn't miss anything.

"No, Dr. Quinzel, everything you have submitted so far is completely up to code and I do appreciate your punctuality. My call has nothing to do with what you have done so far, but what I need from you moving forward, if you are not too busy, please come and see me upstairs.

I'd like to speak with you about this matter personally. I've already provided you clearance to take the South wing elevator that leads directly to my office, I do hope to see you within the next few minutes," he states, it wasn't so much a question as a statement of what was about to occur.

"Of course, Dr. Strange, I will be up shortly.

"Good," he states, a low growl in his voice on the word. As soon as I hear the click on his end I hang up my phone and feel the weight of what just happened fall on my back. My heart sinks to the floor, and the blood rushed from my face, I knew this wasn't good, we all had supervisors on our floor that would always bring information directly from Strange whenever he needed us to know something.

So for him to want to talk with me personally I knew I had to be in some type of trouble no matter what he had said on the phone. I thought back to the conversation I had with Sam, I briefly think for a second that maybe one of the technicians might have overheard my whisper, alerted my supervisor, and that's how Strange found out.

I thought back to what I said and I knew that if he'd known that I'd been involved with Sam on a personal level, I'd lose my license and maybe even my job.

Fear hitched in my throat at the thought, not only would I lose my brother a second time, but I'd lose my job, my apartment, I would have to find somewhere to go. I had no other family that I knew of besides my father, and not even considering the years of torment he put me through, he's in a retirement home here in Gotham, it's not like I can walk up and ask them if I could share a room or something.

And it's not like I would stay with him, if I could, I'd rather die on the street than to look him in his face every day after what he put me through. These thoughts were flying through my mind and I nearly forgot about the fact that I only had a few minutes to get up there, I couldn't be late because I doubt he'd appreciate having to call me a second time.

I pushed all my fear down and tried to put on a brave face, I walked out of my office and went down the hallway. I'd walked up a few flights of stairs on the stairway to get to the South wing and saw the elevator at the end of the hallway. I saw the beeping monitor with a red line shining where the button should be. I pulled my badge from my lab coat pocket and held it up to the sensor.

Dr. Hartley Quinzel, _access granted_. The automated voice spoke as I heard the tell-tale ding of the elevator opening up. I stepped inside, there were no buttons to push but as soon as the elevator door closed in front of me, it began to rise, a few moments later it dings a second time and the doors open up to a dimly lit hardwood floor with expensive furniture and a bear skinned rug.

There was an especially large in the middle of the room with three separate monitors, and a large concrete wall painted all black. To the left and right of me were tons of lab equipment; tables, vials, and strange colored liquids in all of them.

I'd never been to Dr. Strange's office before, when he'd interviewed me, it was conducted on the first level in a regular office like anyone else's. Being here, in his real office, did nothing but add to the fear that this was not a good thing.

"Please, Dr. Quinzel, make yourself comfortable." I hear his voice from somewhere in the room.

I cautiously walk over and take a seat in front of the desk. I look around an regard the room more intensely, it looked so dark and foreboding, almost like a dungeon of sorts. It came across more so like a prison cell than someone's office, the only thing that set it apart was the lavish furniture and the lab equipment.

"So glad you could come up here at such short notice, I know you must be terribly busy with all the work they've assigned to you," I head low and gravelly voice speak out behind me.

I turned and looked at the large, domineering figure of the man standing in front of me. His bald misshapen head, complete with bushy eyebrows, coke-bottle glasses and a thick beard accenting his jaw.

He smiled at me, in what I think was his feeble attempt at trying to come across welcoming, but it had the complete opposite effect on me. Unlike the Joker's smile that was more wickedly playful, Dr. Strange's grin was much more off-putting than anything else. It just made me uncomfortable at the feigned warmth in his, uncooperating smile.

"Not at all, Dr. Strange, I welcome a challenge," I say, putting on a mask of confidence so as not to show him any fear. I may be quaking, but he didn't have to know that.

"Good, I do appreciate a driven individual," he says as he walks around to sit at his desk and sits down. He regards me for a moment, like a lion sizing its prey, and begins,

"I've been informed by one of my subordinates that you were the one that evaluated the Joker, is that true?" he asks, his question once again sounding more like a statement.

"Yes sir, I was helping out one of my fellow co-workers, Dr. Harleen Sorkin, she had a previous engagement and I was trying to help her, she informed me that she was being he had been reassigned. I do hope I did not overstep my boundaries by assisting her," I say, trying my best to pretend as if I was just helping a fellow co-worker in need.

"Quite the contrary Dr. Quinzel, his reassignment was the reason I called you up here today, I've decided that I would like you to be his psychiatrist moving forward. The officer who was present during your session informed me of how the two of you interacted during your session with him, from his testimony, it prompted me to review the tapes and what I saw was truly astonishing.

No one has ever been able to be that close to him and live. He's notorious for his violent tendencies and sudden mood changes, he could have killed you in seconds. And yet he did not, you were within reaching distance of a violent sociopath and yet, he spared you.

That speaks volumes to you as a psychiatrist, Dr. Quinzel, I would love to see his change after a few months of intense therapy from the psychiatrist who was able to lull the savage beast," he says, his expression unreadable.

Part of me jumps for joy, secretly this is what I was hoping for, I wanted to be the one who saved this man from his darkness. I wanted to be the one who went down in history as the only person who was able to successfully stabilize the Joker.

However, there was another part of me, part of me that wanted to get to know him, wanted to understand him, wanted to peel back the layers of his being to see him in a whole new light. That part of me wanted this for all the wrong reasons and I could feel it.

I could feel that subtle ache in my body that longed to understand this man, not so much to help him, but to see if he could make me feel the way he did on our first meeting. I subconsciously chewed on my jaw at the thought, he'd unleashed something in me that I long since tried to bury, and the fear that this might happen again, that was what made me respond the way I did.

"While I am thankful for your consideration Dr. Strange, I don't know if I would be the best fit for this patient.

His psychology is too complicated for me to break through, and I've only just graduated from college a few months prior, I do believe that a psychiatrist with more field experience than I, may be better suited to help this individual," I had to invoke every shred of humility when saying this because I knew that I had to make this performance believable.

I knew I'd be the best person for the job, I knew how to get through to him, and I knew I could help him. However, I also knew that Sam was my main priority, Sam was the reason I got this job, having the Joker as my patient would require me to split my attention and that would not be beneficial to Sam whatsoever.

My other patients were easy to help and diagnose, but Sam was special because he was my brother, and the Joker was special because he was so complicated. However, my fullest attention has to go to the person I love most, my brother, and though it would be a thrill trying to help the Joker through his darkness, I knew it would be an unwise decision.

Not only that, but he made me feel things, things that I don't care to feel ever again, and having to see him every week, would force me to come to terms with feelings that I don't think I want to understand. When we spoke during his evaluation, there was something else there, an undeniable spark that ignited the moment we'd laid eyes on each other.

I thought that I would never have to worry about that again, but when Dr. Strange proposed I become his psychiatrist, the worry returned. I had one motivation to be here and that was to help Sam, I couldn't let anyone, much less a patient, get in the way of my main goal.

"Your humility is a crass insult to your ability, Dr. Quinzel. Already you have accomplished something that others would consider impossible and yet you are apprehensive about moving forward.

Surely you understand that experience, while a necessary part of excellence, can never replace true talent. And you, Dr. Quinzel, a human natural tranquilizer dart to this man, his natural inclinations repressed while in your presence. This is a task I think any person in your position would be thrilled to take on," he states his expression somewhat shocked.

"Again sir, thank you so much for your compliments, but I did what any normal psychiatrist would have done when put before a patient like him.

I followed the evaluation sheets instructions and approached it like I would any patient with his characteristics. I promise you I did nothing special," I lie again, trying to hide my obvious satisfaction at having my ego stroked.

"If you followed the evaluation sheet to the tee, you would be dead right now, instead of sitting in my office. This man has murdered countless psychiatrists, all of which tried to help him by 'following protocol'. We've patted him down, stripped him, and even done scans to make sure he doesn't hurt any of our employees, but somehow he always finds a way.

Most of them, don't even survive past the evaluation, why do you think there were two armed guards present during his session with you? They were not there for decoration, Dr. Quinzel, but for the psychiatrist protection.

If I were you, I'd probably reevaluate your friendship with Dr. Sorkin, I do believe her sudden need for your assistance was just her attempt at self-preservation." He says, raising one of his eyebrows to accentuate his point.

_That bitch! I knew there was something up with her, she was never trying to be my friend, she just wanted to someone to take the fall just in case the Joker got a little murder twinkle in his eye during the evaluation._

_She knew I wouldn't know much about him, she knew that I'd help her because I wanted to get her out of my face, she knew all of this, and she used it to her advantage. She risked my life to protect hers. Fucking fake ass, raggedy, whore ass—_

"However, if you don't believe that you are unable to take on this challenge than I will not force you to comply," his words breaking my thoughts and bringing me back to the moment.

"I do apologize, sir, while I do thank you for your compliments, and while I now know how different things were for me, it was possibly just luck I suppose. You said that most of them were killed during the evaluation, not all of them, so that means some survived. Maybe I was like them, just got to him on a day where he was less in a mood to kill someone than usual.

While I don't normally back down from a challenge, sometimes you have to know when you've bitten off more than you can chew," I lie a third time.

I hate pretending that I can't do this, I hate pretending that I'm not the perfect person for this job, but I keep reminding myself, that this is for Sam. He has to be my main priority. At this point, I'm nearly chewing my inner cheek raw, in frustration.

It's for Sam, you're doing this for Sam, you have to focus on him. I think to myself.

"Very well, Dr. Quinzel, I respect your wishes, you do not have to take this patient on if you do not feel you are at capacity. You may return to your office, I do believe our conversation has reached its conclusion," he says simply, and swivels his chair around to the wall behind him.

"Thank you for your understanding, Dr. Strange, I do hope you are not disappointed with me if circumstances were different, I'm sure I would have accepted," I respond, I rise from my seat and turn to leave.

"Oh Dr. Quinzel, before you go, I'd like to show you something," Dr. Strange states, his voice cool and collected.

"Of course," I say turning back to face him, although his back was still turned.

He picks up a remote and pressed a button, a large monitor slowly slides down. Once the monitor is in position, he presses the second button and I see myself on the screen, talking with Sam from our session yesterday.

My blood runs cold and I widen my eyes in shock. My heart races so much so that I can practically hear it, and the sweat starts to bead at my temple. He clicks another button and I hear Sam say,

"You never have, all those lies you'd tell me back when we used to _fuck each other._ " He paused the recording mid-sentence and rewound it and played it again. I felt like I was about to pass out like my whole world had come crashing down, he knew, he knew everything.

"How unfortunate," he states as he swivels around to face me, his smile growing darker,

"This is a very interesting situation we have here Dr. Quinzel, you see, I need a psychiatrist who can manage the Joker, and you need me to allow you to continue to help your 'patient'. Am I correct?"

I nod quickly, unable to speak due to lump that had completely overtaken my throat.

"Let me make one thing very clear to you, Dr. Quinzel, I could care less about your previous relationship with Samuel Isley, that matters not to me. And as far as you continuing his treatment, as I said, I could care less how you decide to move forward with it.

However, what does concern me is my most frequent flyer, the Joker. He's been in and out of here dozens of times and not even the slightest breakthrough after nearly six years of psychiatrist after psychiatrist.

So please forgive me for wanting to assign him to someone who I know for a fact has such a mass of untapped potential. This man has the potential to make you into something magnificent," I briefly consider his words.

He must have misspoken, he must mean make him magnificent, as in normal, right? But then again, did he did say change me? How could the Joker make me magnificent? I wanted to continue to ponder his words further but decided to just listen as he continued.

"And by that, I mean, he could put you in history books Dr. Quinzel, you could be remembered as a legend for helping to heal a soul as damaged as his," he said, obviously noticing my confusion at his comment,

"Or you could be remembered as the unemployed psychiatrist, who lost their position because he regretted to inform his boss that he was involved in a romantic relationship with one of his patients.

You know, the tabloids are ferocious in Gotham, Dr. Quinzel, no one would want to send their children, husbands, or brothers to a psychiatrist who can't keep things professional."

"I am professional, its just...he's my best friend Doctor, my brother, and he's sick. I'm the only one who knows him well enough to help him, I'm the only one who can get through to him. I just couldn't leave him behind, please,

Doctor, please don't take me away from him, not again, I promised him I wouldn't leave him again," I beg, tears threatening to escape my eyes.

I hated showing weakness like this in front of any man, not after my father, I wasn't going to cry, but I was damn close to a full breakdown.

"As I stated before Dr. Quinzel, I have no interest in taking your friend away from you, my only interest is the Joker's psychiatrist. I feel as though you'd be the perfect fit for him, and if you decide to rethink your decision, I may be able to overlook the video that I saw and turn off all the cameras during your sessions with Samuel Isley.

I'd happily overlook your transgressions if you were to accept my offer. Of course, the decision is yours, Dr. Quinzel,"

He states, his expression pensive.

"Then consider my decision withdrawn, I will happily take on the Joker as my patient Dr. Strange," I say coldly, glaring at him with nothing by hellfire and fury. I may have wanted this, but that doesn't mean I appreciate blackmail.

"Glad you see things my way, Dr. Quinzel, as of today, you are his psychiatrist, your sessions will start tomorrow. He will take the time slot of Jervis Tech, I will reassign him to Dr. Sorkin, would that work for you Doctor?" he asks.

"Of course, Dr. Strange," I state again as cold as ice.

"Good, have a good rest of your day, I do hope your session with Samuel Isley goes well for you. I know you have your second session today, correct?" he asks.

"Yes sir, we do, I hope it goes smoothly as well," I respond, through clenched teeth.

"Well, I believe that was a successful meeting Dr. Quinzel, glad that we could reach a mutual understanding." He grins, as he tilts his head to acknowledge my cue to exit.

"Likewise," I state plainly as I walk to the elevator to leave. I felt the thoughts come before I could even react, they washed over me like a wave, and I'd considered every possible way to kill that man for threatening me this way.

I hated being blackmailed, I hated feeling inferior, I hated being some man's step stool. I turned to face him as the elevators closed in front of me and I stared at him with death in my eyes, he looked back and simply smiled a cryptic look of satisfaction crossing his face. He was going to get what he deserved one day, but know I had new thoughts running through my head.

I was going to be the Joker's psychiatrist, even though I didn't like how it happened, I have to say that I'm not actually that upset at the prospect of this task. I was trying to be noble, trying to do the right thing, but the universe obviously wanted this to happen, wanted me to help him, so that's what I was going to do.

Even though I was seething with rage at the revelation of Strange's true nature, underneath I was giddy with excitement at seeing the Joker a second time, and third time, and every time after that. He was going to be my noble prize, my holy grail, and when I finished with him, he's going to be a new man. I can't wait to see how this all turns out.


	8. Chapter 8

"You know, Ivy, talk therapy only works if we actually talk about things," I state plainly. I was sitting in the same small chair in front of Sam's cell, I'd already been here nearly ten minutes, and he hasn't said a word to me since the moment I stepped in the room.

I resolved that if I was going to get through to him, I would have to call him by his alter ego's name. I was still a little on edge from my conversation with Strange, part of me didn't want to talk to Sam with the knowledge that Strange could be looking on, maybe for some more evidence. Although I pushed that thought away knowing that the footage he had was surely enough to get me fired or worse, my license revoked.

Sam was laying with his back against the wall adjacent to the door and stared off into the distance, he'd taken off his shirt, no doubt hoping that I wouldn't come back and he'd try and seduce the next psychiatrist. The moment I came down the stairs, I could tell that he hoped his harsh words would push me away and was noticeably disappointed to see that I'd come back.

But I did, nothing he could ever say would push me away, I left him behind before, never again. They'd began pumping the chamber with more of the chemical to dampen his powers, no doubt fearing he'd try to reach out and use them again. This time it didn't have any visual effect on him, but I could tell he was weakened, clearly drained from having his powers dampened.

"Get with the program Hartley, I don't want you here, so you sit there and rot for all I care, I'm not going to be apart of your save the world complex," he said briefly looking at me before rolling his eyes and turning away.

"Sam—" I started, cut off by the death glare that was cast my way.

"Sorry, Ivy, listen I'm here to help you. I know you don't want me here, I know you're angry at me, and I know you hate me because you have every right to. But I want you to know something, I don't care." I said defiantly, looking him directly in his wide eyes.

"That's right, I don't care that you don't want me here, I don't care that you hate me, and I don't care that you're angry with me, and you want to know why Ivy? Because you're still Sam, he's in there, buried deep under the mutation, under the pain, under the hurt, and I will do whatever I have to so I can see him again.

I'm not here for Poison Ivy, I'm here for Samuel Isley, and if we have to sit here in silence every single session then so be it, I'll wait weeks, months, even years, but eventually, you're going to talk to me. The only difference is, this time, I'm going to be here for you and I'm going to listen," I sit up in my seat, clipboard in hand, and I looked at him.

To my surprise, he laughed at me, not a full-bodied jovial laugh, but one a lot lower with a hint of sarcasm to it.

"Alright, Doctor," he said finally turning to face me, his tone mocking at the name 'Doctor,' I could tell he was trying to make me upset, but I remained unfazed. He can call me whatever he wants as long as he's talking to me,

"You want to help me get better, right? Want me to become a normal person again? Become the Sam you knew, loved, and left? Is that who you want Doctor, to feel like you can fix something, that was always broken?"

"You're not broken, you're just conflicted. Having your life ripped away so suddenly, I mean you were killed, and you were buried alive. You killed the man who was responsible, but in doing so you lost part of yourself, add that to these newfound powers, and you've got yourself a psychotic break.

That's why you killed those other people, Ivy, nothing else mattered because now you had a purpose, to protect 'the Green'. These powers gave you an escape from the reality of your loneliness.

Loneliness that I am no doubt responsible for, but I'm here now to help you work through your pain, come to terms with what you've done, and not become the Sam you were before, but a better one." I said, trying my best to make sure he understood that I was here for him.

He claps slowly and starts to hoot,

"Well done Doctor, you've got it all figured out, don't you? Guess those years of training really paid off. You just know everything don't you?" he said sardonically.

"I never said that I know everything, but I do know you, and that's all that matters," I respond.

"Well, that's where you're wrong, Doctor, because you seem to think that you know who I am, what I am, and why I do the things I do. But, the honest truth is, you know absolutely nothing," he states cryptically. 

"I know that I saw you, I saw Sam for a second, for just a moment, I saw you. You put up this front as if you are some heartless murderer, but I know better than that Sammy, I saw you flinch during our last session when you said you destroyed families.

It was so small, no one would have noticed it, but I did, and I could tell that you had some regret. Which means Poison Ivy hasn't completely taken over yet. You're still in there Sammy, I know what happened with Marc was scary, I know that killing someone for the first time is not easy, and I know that Ivy is a way for you to cope with that," I say quickly, hoping he wouldn't notice me saying Sammy, from his expression I could tell he was not pleased.

Though I expect him to berate me for using his name, I was surprised that his reaction was quite the opposite, he laughed again.

"You know what's sad Hartley, is that you really believe everything you're saying, you really think you've got it all figured out don't you. And what you think you saw yesterday, wasn't Sam, because Sam has been sleeping for years. It wasn't until my transformation did he really check out of the building.

And what you saw yesterday wasn't regret, it was grief, the grief of losing the only person I ever cared about, my so-called brother. But as quickly as it came it faded because I still remembered how much I hated you, and how I always will," he stated simply, standing up to look down on me in my chair, as he walked closer to the glass wall separating us.

"And just so you know Hartley, Marc wasn't the first person I killed, far from it," he said as he smiled darkly into my eyes. I was clearly shocked by his statement, I tried my best to hide it, but I could tell he saw my surprise.

"No, that's not possible, it wasn't until after your mutation that you started killing people, you said that it changed you, the doctors said it could have messed with your mind. That's why.

Sammy, you aren't yourself right now, the mutation changed your psychology, just as much as your biology, it made you like this, but we can change that. All we have to do is—" I began.

"Don't you get it, Hartley! This is me, sure my body may have changed, but this is who I am, who I've always been! You're just so focused on the facts that you were given, that you don't even realize that you lost your brother the moment you left me behind all those years ago.

That day you left, was the day Sam went to sleep indefinitely until he was finally gone and buried like all the dead." He stated firmly, I could see the seriousness in his face, he wasn't playing, something happened to him after I left. That something changed him and I have to figure out what that is.

"Alright Ivy, forget the fact, forget the information I've been given," I put my pin down and pulled my clipboard from my lap and placed it on the floor beside me. Sam regarded me for a second and I continued,

"If Sam really did 'go to sleep' then that must mean that you had to have been 'born' so tell me, Ivy, since you claim that you were there, what made you. Don't lie and say it was just me leaving, because I know there's more, I know there is something that you're leaving out, something you're not telling me."

He looked at me pensively for a moment,

"I don't think you want to know what made me Hartley, I doubt you're ready to hear about my horrible little misgivings, you might think less of me. I might even scare you off, oh wait, what a great idea."

He bats his eyes sarcastically and I feel myself starting to get angry.

"I'm not afraid of you Ivy," I say defensively.

"You should be," he states daringly, the darkness in his tone made me a little apprehensive at first, but I pushed forward. If I was going to get through to him, if I was going to bring my brother back to the surface, I had to know everything I could know about him.

"Alright, but don't say I didn't warn you, doctor, it's not exactly a bedtime story, so I suggest you prepare yourself," he says as he cocks his head slightly and smiles, I don't waver in my resolve. He lays himself on the floor and turns to face me, his fingers interlaced sitting under his chin.

"Just spit it out Ivy," I say, starting to get annoyed at his avoidance.

"Well once upon a time, there was a boy named Samuel Isley born to two his two parents, Karen and Bobby Isley. They'd been hoping to have a little girl when my mother found out she was pregnant.

I was supposed to be Pamela, but when I was born, the doctors told them that I was a boy and let's just say the parents to be weren't too happy about this. Of course, in the beginning, they took care of me, they fed me, they cleaned me, they did everything they were supposed to do for a child, well at least the bare essentials.

Even as a toddler, I knew something was off about my so-called parents, they tried to brush it off in the beginning, but I guess whatever regret they were feeling, wasn't exactly going anywhere anytime soon. It wasn't until my tenth birthday, that I realized just how much my parents hated me.

You see, I'd heard about parties before, and I'd always wanted one for myself, so I decided I was going to ask my parents about it when they got home from work. Unfortunately, they never did, shame right, I know, for that whole day I was alone and I didn't mind it too much, not until they came home later that night.

I saw my mom first, the tears in her eyes when she saw me, and the disgusted look in my dad's eyes at the sight of me. I ignored it though, I was a child, I didn't know any better, I just thought mommy and daddy had a bad day, I asked them what was wrong. They didn't answer, they just looked at each other for a moment and walked past me.

I asked them when they were walking past me, I said so innocently, 'why can't I have a party like the other little kids at my school?' My mother started to cry more and my dad said, ever so quietly, 'because their parents have a reason to celebrate,'

I suppose he thought I wouldn't hear it, but I did," he stopped for a second, his eyes clouded for a second at the memory, but then he shook it off. I was going to interject, try and comfort him, he'd told this story to me before, but it still made me want to hold him close and tell him things would be better.

"After that day, mom and dad started coming home later and later, leaving me alone longer and longer. They did feed me I suppose, they left food at the house and I learned how to make sure I didn't starve, but over time they started buying groceries less frequently, and soon there was nothing but loaves of bread and a package of meat that was always shockingly close to expiration.

I knew what they were doing, but I ignored, I just excused it as them being forgetful. They just forgot that I was there because they weren't there as often is all. Thankfully, Mrs. Banks, the neighbor across the street had a vegetable garden, often times, late at night when she was sleeping I used to steal some of her ripe veggies and take them for myself.

Of course, I knew I couldn't do that forever, so I learned to how to do it myself. I had a natural affinity for the Green even at twelve years old, I guess she knew who I was before I knew. Anyways, I would tell my parents when they did return, which was seldom, that I learned how to take care of myself.

I told them that I was a big boy, that they didn't have to worry. But for some reason they were still upset, my mother couldn't look at me for long before she started crying before my father was trying to comfort her and would look at me as if I was some sort of hellspawn," he continued.

I slowly leaned forward, to pull my clipboard into my lap, thankfully he was so lost in thought he didn't notice me starting to write. I knew all this information, hearing it again made me feel worse about leaving him, but I had to push that all aside in order to focus on helping him.

"It wasn't until I was thirteen that I finally came to terms with why they were so disappointed in me, why she cried every time she came home and saw me there, why they were so hellbent on leaving me alone for sometimes weeks at a time or even longer.

They couldn't get rid of me themselves, I guess they didn't have to heart to just rid themselves of the problem, so they hoped that the problem would just go away. They prayed, hoped, wished that one of these days, they were going to come home to find a dead child lying on the floor.

They wanted me out of their lives and just didn't know how to get me to leave, so they counted on me not being able to take care of myself. I suppose they didn't expect me to be a survivor huh?" he said with a bitter laugh following.

I had to keep writing, I knew that if I didn't write, I couldn't think about this objectively, my emotions would get involved and I would be of no use to him. I have to take my heart out of the equation, but the more he talks about the way they treated him, the harder it is for me to keep my feelings in check.

I paused for a moment realizing he stopped talking. I looked up and saw him eyeing me, noticing that I was writing, he ignored it and continued,

"I was going to kill myself, did you know that Hartley, I was going to kill myself and give them exactly what they wanted. I was a good son, they deserved a son that would make them happy, and if me being dead would give them that peace that they so desperately clung to, then I was going to give them what they needed to be proud of me. I was planning on doing it that day you know," he stated.

"What day?" I ask, trying to hold back the emotion that was getting heavy in my voice.

"The day I met you. The boy with the bruised cheek on the first day of middle school. I remember running into you in the hallway books in hand, your head down trying to cover the marks your father gave you, and I ran smack into you.

Immediately the two of us were apologizing so quickly that we could barely understand each other. I remember looking into your green eyes that day, that dirty blonde hair, and that killer jawline that even your dad's bruise couldn't hide. I dare say it was the happiest day of my life, looking at the pain in your eyes, it looked so much like my own I just couldn't believe it.

It was like something inside us recognized something in the other, that undeniable pain that no one who hasn't actually been through it would see. From that moment on we became the best of friends, we became brothers connected in pain for life, you remember that, Dean?" he asked.

I was partially surprised at him using my name from our childhood games, but I was extremely touched. He'd said it before in our last session, but this was the first time I heard him say it fondly as if he remembered the love we shared when we were younger.

"I do, I was so afraid of getting in someone else's way that I tried everything in my power to become invisible. I couldn't get beat up at home and at school. I'd rather be a nobody than to be someone else's punching bag," I responded.

"And as invisible as you tried to make yourself, I still saw you, for exactly who you were. We were kindred spirits who'd finally found each other, and that was what kept me going. You gave me a reason to keep going.

I knew my parents hated me, I knew they wanted me dead. As much as you say you wanted to be invisible, do you know what I would've given to have what you have with your family?"

"Are you fucking insane?! My dad was a world-class asshole, he fucking beat me almost every single day Sam, and not light little taps either, full on beatdowns. Do you know how many times my mom had to cover the spots with makeup, trying to hide my bruises, hid the pain he'd caused me and her?

And his son coming home with makeup on his face only made him crueler. Do you know what I would have given to not have to worry about him every laying a hand on me?!" I nearly scream I could barely contain the anger I was feeling at his statement.

He wanted my life and had the nerve to tell me that to my face. I wanted so badly to smack him across the face, to shake some sense into him. His life was bad, that was not a question, but to say he wished for mine, that was going too far.

"But you still had your mom. And even though she couldn't protect you from him all the time, she did lessen the blows for you. She'd take a beating, constant verbal abuse, and even lie to try and protect you from him.

Your mother loved you Dean, and yes she was not strong enough to protect you, but she was strong enough to love you, to always make sure you knew that," he stated, seemingly unfazed by my angry outburst.

As much as I hated to admit it, he was right, my mother did love me, and even though she couldn't protect me from him, I don't know how many beatings would have been a lot worse had she not stepped in and took some of the blows for me.

"Neither of my parents cared about me, both of them hated me, equally. They didn't want me, you think getting abused was hard, try neglect on for size before you start diminishing the pain I experienced. My parents didn't have to beat me, they did something much worse Dean, they did nothing.

Do you know how many nights I'd go without a meal, without any idea what I was going to eat the next day? Before I started gardening and before I stole from Mrs. Banks, when the food ran out, that was it for me. Do you know what its like to feel like you are nothing Dean, of course, you do, your father made sure of that didn't he?

But tell me, do you know what it feels like to feel like nothing both emotionally and physically? I remember being so hungry one night that I actually tried to eat dirt, do you know how desperate for food you have to be to eat dirt, Dean? I do, I did.

It wasn't like I could call anyone either, not 911, not child protective services because I was afraid. I was afraid I was never going to see my mommy and daddy again, so I kept my mouth shut and suffered."

I looked again, seeing new understanding in his words, he was right again. I never had to worry about food, never had to worry about where my next meal was coming from, or if at least someone in my family cared about me.

"You were all I had Dean, why do you think I always let you play the older brother when we pretended to be hunters? We were the same age Dean, but I wanted you to be the older one because as a big brother you had to protect me, you had to be there for me, you had to love me because that was your job.

Dean and Sam Winchester, we would never leave each other behind ever. And for years that was enough, even when our relationship as boyfriends didn't work out, it was still enough that you were there, in any capacity. But then...then you left, the only person who ever really loved me, left.

Sure, I dated other people while we were friends, I'd cared for them a great deal, but when they left when they proved to me that I didn't matter to them, it didn't matter to me because I would always have my big brother, he would never desert me. Until he did." He stated, his voice was still, not sad or angry, just a frightening stillness that made feel that much more horrible.

"I'd thrown myself into learning everything I possibly could about plants, I'd already been connected to them, they were always my babies, but when you left they had my complete undivided attention. I grew herbs, vegetables, fruits, the works, I was even able to create what I called hybrid herbs that had all sorts of interesting effects that I had fun trying to discover.

One day, my parents came home, and for the first time ever, I saw them smiling, smiling like they never had before. They were ecstatic, for a second I thought they'd finally come around, but the moment their eyes found me in the room their moods completely changed.

My dad told my mom to go to their room and laid down, and my dad told me to sit down on the couch because we needed to have a talk. He told me that my mom was pregnant with a little baby girl, at first I was about to jump for joy, I was finally going to have a sibling, someone who had to love me.

I promised myself that I would make sure she always knew how much she was loved and I would never let my parents make her feel the way they made me feel for the past seventeen years." I looked at Sam and briefly considered bringing up what his little sister would think about what he was doing now, but I cliff noted that comment for later sessions.

"But then my dad said to me, he said, 'listen, you need to clear out your room and start looking for a new place to stay, Karen and I are converting your room into Pamela's nursery, so after she's born we need you gone, is that understood'.

I was floored not just by him giving her what was once my name, but how he said my mom's name, Karen. He said it like she wasn't the woman who held me in her stomach for nine months, wasn't the person who birthed me, wasn't the son she had. I begged him, 'dad what am I going to do I don't have a job, I don't have anywhere else to go, please daddy, I don't know what I can do?'

He looked at me, his eyes, I'll never forget how cold they were when he looked at me, he said, 'Don't call me dad, I'm not your father, Karen isn't your mother, and Pamela isn't your sister, as of today you are no longer a part of our family, but you never really were, to begin with. Karen and I had no other child to call our own, you were all that we had, but now.

Now we have a child we actually want, that we actually care about, and this time the doctor was sure it was a girl. My baby girl is going to be here soon, and I don't want to have to explain to my child why there's some freak living in our living room. I don't really care where you go, but you can't stay here. Not after Pamela's born.'

"Oh Sam, I'm so sorr—" I started.

"I'm talking! Please do not interrupt me, Doctor!" He yells as he slams his hands against the glass so hard that I nearly jump out of my seat in shock.

He stared at me as he continued, his eyes unblinking,

"For nine months I watched my parents, so happy, so joyous. They'd taken special care to get me boxes so I could pack up my room which took me under an hour. As you well remember, my parents didn't exactly bother to buy me more than two or three outfits, the rest I stole from convenience stores and malls.

I always thought it was because of the money, but apparently, we had more than enough. They'd refurbished the room, painted it, decorated it, and filled it the closets with clothes, filled to the brim with toys. You could practically feel the love in the air, the anticipation. I watched their excitement, and my quiet rage turned into something else entirely, vengeance.

My mother and father loved this child in ways that they could never love me. For nearly two decades I thought that they were merely incapable of love, but it turns out that they were. This whole time they had the capacity of love and they just didn't want to give it to me. That was the day I was born Hartley, the day Sam went to sleep.

I knew that there was a way something I could do to get back at them and suddenly it all became clear when my mom went into labor and had come home with my little baby sister swaddled in her arms. They were smiling so hard I thought that they might've sprained a muscle, they saw me still sitting on the couch in the living room.

My mother looked at me, still weak from childbirth her smile unwavering and she said, 'get out of my house, now.'

I looked into his eyes and I saw a tear fall down his cheek, more than anything else in the world I wanted to hug him, I needed to hug him, but I couldn't. I couldn't even say anything to him because he was finally opening up, I couldn't say anything for fear he might not ever share like this again.

I kept my mouth closed and settled on just letting him continue.

"I left that house that day, but not before collecting a few things from my garden. You see, Hartley, my parents, I'd seen them for what they truly were, monsters, and it was time that I embraced what created me. Be the monster that they thought I was, you see the hybrid herbs I was growing weren't just medicinal but also toxic, untraceable and some even had some special effects on the human mind.

It seemed as though the Green provided me with all the necessary tools to give my parents exactly what they deserved. I waited a few weeks, finding a shelter that took in the homeless, I hid my face well so they didn't know I was a minor, I didn't want to be put in a foster home, I refused, my home was the place I was going to return to, whether they liked it or not.

When I arrived though, I was fully intent on killing them Dean, I promise that was what I was going to do, but it seemed as though the universe had other plans. You see, my mom and dad had gone out and they'd hired a babysitter to take care of my little sister.

I walked into the house she was of course startled by my sudden entrance and I blew a little of the special herbs that I ground into a fine powder into her face. She coughed and then she fell to her knees completely in service to me. I commanded her to sleep and so she did." I watched Sam intently, his eyes never once wavering, it was as if he was re-watching the scene unfold in his eyes and I was terrified to see where this story was going next.

"I heard her cry Dean, Pamela was crying out for someone, anyone, to help her. She was a small defenseless little baby, she needed someone to care for her. I went to the fridge and pulled out one of her bottles, I'd overheard my mom talk about how she wanted to breastfeed her daughter, so she had some bottles prepped for the babysitter.

I fully intended to take the bottle to my little sister, I was going to feed her and be a good big brother, but then I felt something, Dean. Something I never felt before, it was a dark feeling, Dean, it scared me at first, but I relished in the fear. I had nothing, I had no one, whatever this dark feeling was, it was much better than feeling nothing.

I was going to lace their pillows with the herbs that I knew would kill them in their sleep, that was the original plan. But I thought of something much more fun. I embraced this dark emotion, I let it overtake me, and do you know want to know what I did Dean?"

I looked at him, my heart racing, I had no idea what to say, what to do, how to react. So I just stared at him, his eyes never found mine, they just continued staring off into nothing.

"I realized that I was in the position to give my parents exactly what they had been hoping to have for seventeen years. I put the bottle back into the refrigerator and went to the babysitter and commanded her to go feed the baby and to forget I was ever here.

She did as she was told, and I went out into the backyard and waited patiently ever so patiently. I heard my parents pull into the driveway, I opened the back door and told the babysitter to bring the baby into the living room and sit on the couch and rock her. She did as she was told. I heard my parents come inside the house, they were laughing, obviously having had a good time. 

I smiled when I could hear how happy they were to see the babysitter so cozy with the baby, and then all of a sudden I hear the most glorious sound in the world. It was my mother's scream, it was agony, pure agony, and it had me in ecstasy. My father didn't scream he just cried, I could hear his whimpers through the door, his anger palpable.

I heard the babysitter cry out too, my father was choking her, I looked in the window and saw my father strangling that innocent teenage girl and I smiled. I watched my mother clutch my sister to her bosom trying to soothe the lifeless body in her arms, and my dad ripping another life from existence at the same time. It was truly a sight to behold.

Soon the babysitter wasn't struggling under my father's grip anymore she was gone, I could feel it," I looked at my friend, stomach clenched in suspense, fear filled my face and I could barely breathe barely react, barely speak.

"The realization of what he'd done finally hit him when he looked at the dead girl, the shock, the horror on his face, oh Dean I wish you could have seen it. He couldn't believe what he'd done, all the while, my mother clutching my sister harder to her, as if her prayers were somehow going to break the barrier of life and death," he laughs,

"I don't think so mommy. I opened the back door and they both looked at me, and realization kicked in, my father was fast in stride to come after me but I used the herbal powder to make him submit before me.

Unfortunately, this was before I gained my newfound abilities, so I had to be very careful how much of this powder I used, I only had enough for four people, the first being my test subject and the second being the babysitter. So, at the time, this was the only opportunity I had to bend them to my will.

A once in a lifetime opportunity, and I couldn't pass that up. My mother still in shock just sat there clutching the child, I walked up to her and powdered her as well. I told her to drop the baby and come stand next to her husband, she did as she was commanded.

I told my dad, that I poisoned the bottle the babysitter fed Pamela and that was how she died, even though the effects of the powder I could see the rage in my father's eyes. I told him that it was so sad, that he killed that poor girl for nothing when the person you should have been killing was right under your nose the entire time.

I kissed both of them on the cheek and I told them, I said, 'you should be happy, you always hoped prayed to come home to a dead child, well, your wish, my command.' I could see a shadow of my father peak through and watched as a tear fell from the vessel that I had taken control of and I saw my mother's utter defeat.

I told the two of them to dig their graves, they did, along with two others for my sister and her babysitter. When they were done, I told them to kill each other slowly and painfully, I wanted to see them bleed. Do you want to know the best part Dean, they couldn't even scream when they were cutting into one another. It was just strangled cries that were barely audible whimpers.

They died that day, but their corpses were a natural fertilizer. Turns out that human bodies have a lot of nutrients in them that stimulate plant growth. I could never quite get my garden to look as vibrant as it did that year, guess all that I needed were more fresh stimulants." He finished and looked down at me, his eyes completely clouded over and his expression grew grim.

I was wrong to say I wasn't afraid of him because for the first time ever, I was truly afraid.

"So, you see, Dean,'" he said he leaned down and faced me directly through the glass,

"Sam's been gone for a really long time, where did you think the name, 'Poison Ivy,' came from? I was a poison to my parents, I poisoned their lives and deaths. So the name is a constant reminder of my gift to humankind, I am the poison that will bring about their destruction."

"Sam, how—but why—I don't—" I couldn't find the words, there was nothing I could say, nothing I could do to explain, nothing I could say. I was prepared to hear a lot of things.

I've read some horrible stuff, but this, this was too close to home. I just couldn't comprehend anything at the moment. I just couldn't understand.

"What's the matter Doc?" he asks, feigning innocence, clearly noticing my evident shock.

"I um, I uh, I have to go, I uh next uh," I couldn't find the words, everything had escaped me.

"Aw poor Hartley, too much for his self-righteous mind could handle," he calls after me as I run up the stairs.

He was right, I was scared, but not because of what he did, but because of how dark it was. I could feel his darkness when he spoke and his voice when he spoke of vengeance. He gave into his darkness and his parents got exactly what they deserved.

I couldn't say that to Sam, not when I supposed to be admonishing him, but the truth is, I commend him. That was what scared me, my friend just admitted to me that he killed a child to seek revenge on his own parents, and somehow, I could understand this. I remembered those nights where I dreamed and dreamed of my father's death and it never came.

Ivy didn't let dreams get in the way, he took action and got revenge on the people who ruined his life. This was wrong, feeling this way, but something inside me, something I didn't want to acknowledge, thought that this was acceptable.

Darkness is a choice Hartley, I screamed inwardly, he chose to give into his darkness, you didn't, you know this is wrong, you know it. Don't let what's inside you dictate how you move forward.

It doesn't matter how you feel about it, it matters that what he did was wrong in society's eyes, he needs help. You have to help him, but you can't do that if you're congratulating him.

I let the thoughts subside and head back to my office, it had been a long day and I don't think I can handle any more life-changing revelations in my life.


	9. Chapter 9

I walked down the hall with a sort of bubbliness in my stride. I was about to see the Joker for our 6th session in a few moments and I cursed myself for how excited I was to see him. It had been only been a few weeks since the day Strange assigned me to him through blackmail, but I couldn't be happier.

I was making real progress with this patient, it took me a few tries, but eventually, I got him to open up to me. He was telling me things that he'd never told any of his previous psychiatrists, and I could see myself breaking through his mental walls.

It felt so good to be able to help someone like him, and even though it was only a few times, I felt as if he and I had some sort of unspoken connection. Although, I could probably attribute that to my unceasing attraction to him.

My stride slowed a bit at the revelation. I knew it was wrong to feel this way about a patient, I knew that I should just ignore these feelings like I did every time I was in his presence, but I couldn't, especially not today. February 14, Valentines Day, or as I like to call it, the day of unbridled rage.

Throughout the year I could contain my sexual frustration, I could ignore the darkness in my own self that I have tried to contain for years, but today was the day that always pushed me every so slowly over the edge. The smiling faces, the flowers, the chocolates, the love, it made me physically sick. I hated it because I was always alone on this day.

Even when Sam and I dated all those years ago, we'd decided against continuing that relationship long before Valentine's day was anywhere in range. So for twenty-six years, I've spent every single Valentine's day alone and it slowly made me more and more bitter every time it passed. I hated being lonely, I hated not having someone give me something special on this day, but I knew it would and could never happen.

I wasn't like Sam, he could get any guy or girl he'd wanted with just a flick of his gorgeous hair, even now, even with his green tinted skin and red hair he was still a catch. Sam and I had a session today, just like we do on all the days when I saw the Joker, but I decided to skip today.

I couldn't bear to see him behind that glass anymore, after the session when he told me he killed his baby sister, he hadn't expected me to return. When I came back the shock was visible on his face, I kept pressing on about his condition and how no matter what I'd be there for him. His attitude turned colder towards me.

I knew he wanted to push me away, I knew he wanted me gone, but I stayed and that angered him. Throughout the rest of the sessions that followed, his tone and his words became increasingly crueler. It was like he'd wanted to hurt me so badly that I would never return, and he was getting good. He knew what buttons to push with me and how to get me upset, so I had to remember that he was only doing this to get rid of me.

The only good part that came from our meetings was that after them, I would always get to see the Joker. Sam hurt me, and he had every right to, but it didn't mean that the pain he was trying to cause hurt any less. That's why today, today I couldn't see him.

Sam knew how much I hated being alone on this day, he knew how lonely I'd feel, and I knew that would be the totality of our session. His Poison Ivy alter ego was getting stronger, and the more I tried to push him, the more power this version of him had. I felt like I was losing him, and I was, and I knew the reason why.

I slowed my stride even more as I descended the stairs that would take me to Section D. I knew that the reason I was losing Sam was that my focus was being pulled elsewhere, to the Joker. I couldn't explain it if I'd wanted to, but this man, he was just so intriguing. His sense of humor, his grin, his personality, his darkness, it was all so alluring and no matter how much I tried to hide or ignore my feelings for him, they just kept growing every single session.

Every single time I was done with him, every single time our session ended, he'd left me feeling so hot that I literally had to go to the bathroom to jerk off every time we'd finished. I'd never felt fire like this before, he'd made my insides scream, my mind cloudy, my mouth dry, and my heart race and he hadn't even touched me. His subtle comments, his flirtatious smile and his gorgeous body sent me spinning.

It took everything I had in me not to just strip off his clothes and ride him until he was screaming my name. I'd never felt something like this before, not even for Sam. Sex with Sam was always great, the things he could do with that tongue of his would make the Devil blush, but it always just fun. Sam may have taken my virginity, and I his, but it was just a friend with benefits type of sexual relationship, just to help each other ease the tension.

After we'd broken up and decided against having sex anymore so we could focus on being friends, I put all my energy into my gymnastics so all the pent of frustration had a new outlet. Sure I would get turned on, once every occasion, but it was always just a brief feeling before I would force it down. This man, this Joker, he was the only man that had ever made me feel this hot, ever.

It wasn't just a physical attraction, it was his darkness that allured me, it was so much like my own, that it frightened me. I could see the pain he's endured, I can understand the struggles he's been through, and I can see how much he enjoys reveling in the chaos he brings. His darkness was the only thing that made this day bearable, getting to be in his presence, knowing that afterward, I'd get the best orgasm of my life, it made it all worth it.

I knew it was wrong to want this man this way, but I didn't care, it was harmless. He'd never actually touched me because of the straightjacket they had to place on him after he'd killed one of the guards trying to take him back to his cell. They'd moved us to another room in Section D, one where there were no camera's, but there were still guards stationed outside the door to ensure safety.

Having these feelings were harmless because I knew that there were boundaries, I knew that they would never be crossed and I knew deep down, he could never want me the way I wanted him. No matter how much I wanted to touch him, no matter how much I wanted to be beneath that pale skin as he thrust inside of me making me scream in ecstasy, there was always that barrier that kept me tamed, the knowledge that he would never want me.

I knew I wasn't enough for him, I knew he could never want me, so I just enjoyed the idea of him fucking me, because an idea was just that, an idea. I wasn't doing anything actually illegal, I was just relieving stress from a particularly stimulating session, that was all. I reasoned with myself as I puffed out my chest a bit, and continued down the hall to the men standing in front of the cell door.

Even though the two guards knew me well, I still had to present identification to gain entry. They opened the doors for me and there he was, smiling that wicked smile he always had on when he saw me. It made my heart flutter for a second, it was amazing at how much power this man had on me, I forced myself from returning his smile and took my seat across the table from him.

Even though he made my libido run wild, I couldn't let him see that, I knew he would use it for his own gain. This man was a sociopath, dangerous, capable of destroying anyone and anything that stood in his way. I knew this, I'd studied him in my free time, I knew his tricks like the back of my hand, his gags, his tactics, his motives. I knew him more than I cared to admit. In most of my free time I'd study his files and his record, more so than Sam's, I knew how he could manipulate people, so I had to stay strong while I was actually in his presence.

I could not show weakness or he'd see it, so I put up a front, something my dad inadvertently taught me when I was young. No matter how they make you feel, never let them see what they do to you because when you do, you give up all your power. No matter how much I wanted to show him just how I felt, I had to be strong, I was his psychiatrist first.

"Dr. Quinzel," he said, his grin lightening a little, as his tongue flicked at the last syllable of my name,

"I live for these moments with you."

It always struck me as odd at how quickly he was able to change his look with just a swivel of his head. He looked at me with those deceivingly innocent eyes, and I felt myself lose my composure slightly.

_He doesn't want you, he's just saying that to mess with you, he just wants to get in your head like all these other patients, he knows you're gay, he knows you want him, so he's just teasing you._

_Nothing will ever happen, nothing should happen. Just keep going, you'll have your time to deal with this later._ I yelled in my head. I quickly regained my resolve, but I could tell he noticed the shift because he smiled a little as he leaned back, his straight jacket keeping him confined.

"Well, that's nice, I'm glad to see that you are comfortable with me during our sessions," I said, feigning an uncaring tone, while my insides screamed with excitement.

"Very comfortable Doctor Quinzel did I ever tell you how much I love that name, Hartley Quinzel, rework it a bit and you get Harley Quinn," He states, his voice now heightened in that jovial tone.

"Like the clown character Harlequin, I know, I've heard it before," I respond, keeping my inner school girl in check, I could feel myself bubble over a bit in excitement, he gave me a nickname. I knew though this was just one of his tactics, he was just trying to get me to lower my guard, but I who I was dealing with, so I brushed it off.

"It's a name that puts a smile on my face," he said smiling widely, looking almost childlike, I want to grin, he looks so adorable like this, and all I want to do is kiss him. I make sure to hide my emotions well and when he looks at me I regard him coldly.

"What's it going to take to get you to smile," he asks, I don't respond,

"How about a joke Doctor, why does Santa Clause have a big sac?" he asks as he leans forward, waiting for my response. I don't answer again, he says,

"Come on Doc, throw me a bone here, you always want me to play your games, why don't you want to play mine, why does Santa Clause have a big sac?"

"Why?" I say feigning annoyance, but in truth, I wanted to know the punchline, I just had to keep him from knowing that.

"Because he only cums once a year," he says and immediately erupts in his signature cackle. I had to turn away for a moment and tighten my stomach to keep me from laughing. I always loved his humor, and in truth, every joke he's told throughout my sessions with him have always made me laugh, but I had to stifle it because, if he knew he'd made me laugh, he would use that to his advantage.

"Ha," I stated sarcastically with a small smile. He looked at me and cocked his head to a side, his eyes trying to read my expression, I fight with everything in my power to make sure he thinks I didn't like his joke.

"Oh come on Doc. That one always kills," he stated, taking no offense to my reaction.

"Humor is just your way of getting attention, or to try and direct the conversation in the path that you wish your audience to follow," I state simply, writing on my legal pad, not meeting his eyes.

"Or power," he stated cryptically, his eyes clouding over darkly.

"I'm listening," I respond, watching him curiously.

"If you make em' laugh, you have power over them, a piece of them belongs to you. Make some ass hat laugh and he's vulnerable. He's yours," he states.

"Is this how you got your father's attention," I interrupted, trying to press for more information. He rarely talked about his father, with the exception of him joking about how his father would get angry with him every time he got the scriptures wrong during prayer.

I craved to know what his father was like to him, I craved to know just how alike we really were, because I often wondered if my life had taken a different path, would I have ended up like him. He looked at me, his expression changed suddenly but then reverted back to his smile.

"I thought you were listening," he fires back sarcastically.

"I'm sorry, please, continue," I said, cursing myself inwardly, I should know better than the interrupt him when he's opening up. He rarely does so, but when he does, he's an open book but he only reveals the chapters he wants you to read. I quickly pull my legal pad closer my pen in hand, he regards me for a moment and continues,

"Once you make someone laugh, you have their attention, you matter. You're not just some ant they can step on and crush anymore." He spat out, the hate in his voice palpable.

At that moment, I felt his pain, someone hurt him, and I could see it in his face, I wanted to reach out and hug him, tell him that everything was going to be okay, but I didn't move. Careful not to interrupt him a second time.

"You know Doctor, I've opened up to you so much over these past few weeks, answering most of your questions and giving you information that no one else has ever known about me, but I know nothing about you, do I?" he says as looks at me with his lips pouted ever so slightly.

"That's because you're not supposed to know anything about me, I'm your doctor, not the other way around remember?" I state, feigning my removed tone of voice to keep him from pressing.

"Yes, yes, I know that, but I just feel like we haven't gotten the chance to really get to know one another, you know, it breaks my heart a little." He said as he leaned in a little, lips still pouted. I looked at him, his lips so full, and so luscious, god I wanted to lick those lips so badly. I rolled my eyes at him to try and diffuse the situation.

"Tell you what, I know you want to know more about my childhood Doctor, and I although I don't remember much, I could tell you about one memory that sticks out above all the rest, and if I do, you'll answer just one little question for me, deal?" he asks, raising his eyebrows a little.

I looked at him for a moment, I could have just said no, I should have said that this is not a negotiation and whether or not he told me about what he was offering I would get it out of him eventually with or without the deal, but part of me wanted to take it. Part of me wanted to know what he wanted to ask me so I conceded.

"Very well," I said simply. His eyes lit up like a child on Christmas day, and I couldn't help smiling a little at his joy.

"Alright, well forgive me if this is a little hazy, I try my hardest to push those memories as far away, but they are like flies, you know, you swat them away, you try and kill them, but somehow they just seem to stick around.

Anyway, my father was always a praying man, that much you were right about, he believed that Jesus was returning tomorrow, if it was up to him every person on Earth should be repenting for their sins every second of the day," he started, I was scribbling on my pad, making note of everything he was saying not wanting to miss a single word.

"He always told me that no matter what every single time I came home, I was always, no matter what, I was supposed to pray to God to forgive my transgression of the day so as to cleanse my spirit before I even walked through the door. See my father believed that his house was a temple, a sort of holy ground, so no person was allowed entry without repenting to God first so as to keep the house pure.

I remember coming home one day, after a really hard day of getting my ass kicked by the older kids that rode on the bus with me home, all I wanted was to get some band-aids for my open wounds. This particular day they were a little rougher than usual so it was pretty bad, one of the kids punched me in my temple so hard that I actually thought I was going to pass out. They'd kicked me, chocked me, and one of them even dug their fingers so deep into my neck that I was actually bleeding."

My heart was breaking as he was telling me this, and I watched him, unlike Ivy, he was staring right at me as he told his story and it took everything in my power to keep my face stoic. As a psychiatrist, your patients look to you for strength so I had to keep my composure, he had to know I could handle what he was telling me.

"I ran up to my door, and I didn't even notice my dad's car in the driveway, you see he would often time watch me before I came in to make sure I did my prayers before entering. It would take about five minutes to do it and I didn't have the time, the pain was too much so I just opened the door and ran to the bathroom to wash it off. It wasn't too long after that when my dad came bursting through the bathroom door and wham!" He said loudly, I jumped a little as if it was me who had taken the blow

"Wham! Wham! Wham! Over and over and over again. He kept hitting me, kept praying that God would restore his home, restore his sanctuary. He just kept hitting me Doctor, I was just twelve years old, barely a teenager, I always knew he was a bit off, and sure he'd hit me before, but this was new, it was unyielding.

He'd hit me again and again, what those boys did to me was nothing compared what my father let loose on me that day. Over and over, I felt like I was dying, my insides were screaming, and I started to cough up blood. He'd finally stopped after what seemed like forever, and picked me up and threw me into our living room floor and told me to recite the Lord's prayer until he said stop.

So I did, I lied there, bloodied and afraid, and I prayed to his God to forgive me, to help me. My mother came home soon after and cleaned me up, she was an RN so she knew how to fix me up real nice, only to tell me that I brought this on myself and that I should know better. She agreed with what he had done to me. That bitch thought I deserved it.

She even told me what to say if anyone asked what happened to me. She told me to say the kids on the bus beat me up. Can you believe it?" He stated and he started to laugh, not jovially, not even a cackle, but a somber dark laugh that sent chills down my spine.

I tried to hold back my tears but a single one fell from my left eye and I cursed myself for letting him see it. He looked at me and I saw his eyes light up.

"It's okay Doctor, no need to waste any tears for me, they got what was coming to them, I made sure of that," he said his eyes clouded over darkly as his smile grew more into a darker grin,

"So I guess you can pat yourself on the back Doctor, you were right about the whole Castiel bit."

"I'm sorry, I just, I know that must have been hard for you," I say, drying my tears before I let open a floodgate.

I knew what it was like to be hurt like that, I knew we were similar, but I had no idea just how deep this went. It all was suddenly too real for me, I had to remember that this was his game, maybe he was just lying to get me to feel sorry for him, but part of me knew that this was the truth.

"Eh. I'm over it, happened a long time ago, plus I found that murdering any and everyone who ever hurt you relieves a lot of stress, gets the blood pumping and makes the pain go away. Once they're gone, it's like everything they ever did to you just goes poof," he says his dark smile returning.

"Murdering your parents doesn't remove the pain that they caused you," I say returning from my own drifting thoughts about my own father, trying to remember I had a job to do.

"How would you know Doctor?" he said asked.

"Because killing people is not right, it doesn't solve anything," I lied.

I may have wanted to believe what I was saying but I have thought about before. Especially when my mom died, I hated that my dad was still living and breathing, after she had dealt with his abuse for nearly as long as I have, if not long before I was born. I wanted to end him when he called me a little bitch when I was crying over her casket.

I wanted to see him bleed, it was the first time that my darkness nearly got the better of me, but I knew I couldn't. I knew that killing him was wrong, but deep down, in a place that I didn't want to ever visit, the idea of murdering him gave me some sick version of satisfaction.

"Actually it is, you of all people should be commending me for getting rid of the problem, they hurt me, I hurt them, end of story. You're telling me, Doctor, that you never, ever, ever thought about killing someone before?"

"That is not relevant to our topic, we're talking about you right now Mr. Joker, not me," I say trying to defer the question.

"No, I don't want to talk about me anymore Doctor, I want to talk about you, how is dear old dad doing? Still in that nursing home down in Gotham General? Still treating you like you don't matter?

How does it feel Doctor, to know that your father, the father that abused you, the father that beat you, the father that destroyed your life, is still alive and kicking?" He asks as he starts to rise from his seat.

"How do you—how did you—" I started, but the fear in my voice was evident, I was floored at how much he seemed to know about me. It made me uncomfortable with him knowing so much about me, I was afraid. I had no idea he even knew about my father, where he was, or anything about my life for that matter.

"You'd be pretty amazed at how much you can find out if you know what you're looking for," he said answering my unspoken question cryptically.

He made a quick movement, and all of a sudden the straight jacket that was on the floor and his hands were free. Before I could react he'd come up to me and grabbed both of my arms and pulled me from my seat and pushed me up against the nearest wall. The sudden action earned a yelp from me, but not loud enough for the guards to hear.

Part of me wanted to scream out for help, but part of me didn't want this moment to end, this was the closest I'd ever been to a man since Sam, and part of me was enjoying it. He looked at me with earnest and determination, something was about to happen, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

"You know, I still didn't get to ask you my question yet," he says his smile growing wider and darker on his face.

"Wh— what is it?" I push out, fear still etched in my voice, his hands gripped my wrist tighter. I knew that struggling against his grip would be futile, so I just allowed him to overpower, whatever was going to happen was going to happen and there was nothing I could do about it.

"Will you be my Valentine?" he asks, his grip lessening on my arms a little, enough for circulation, but not enough to free myself. I looked at him, both surprised and fearful, but there was one emotion that won out over both and that was joy. I couldn't believe what I was hearing, I had to be dreaming, it had to be some hallucination, I couldn't react from near shock. He looked into my eyes searching for an answer.

"Don't act so surprised Doc, I know you want me. I can feel it, I can feel you," he says, pressing his body closer to mine. I cursed myself at the revealing tint in my pants giving me away. I blushed furiously, I knew I must have looked as red as an apple under his knowing gaze.

"Don't be embarrassed Doctor, I want you too, can't you tell?"

He pressed himself into me, and I could feel him too, he was hard, and immediately my dried mouth watered fiercely. It was big, and it was thick, and it was on me, and I could barely think, let alone breath.

"Come on Doctor, I need an answer," he said, grinding into me, I felt myself cursing everyone and everything at the friction between us. All I wanted was his dick inside me at that moment, fuck lubrication, fuck preparation, I just needed him in me, I let out a stifled moan.

"Y-yes, god yes," I finally let out, lost in the ecstasy of his agonizingly slow grinding.

"Good," he let me go instantly, and walked back over to his chair and started putting his straight jacket back on.

"Wha-What, how did you, why would you?" I felt myself slink the ground as I struggled to breathe. I was so turned on I couldn't stand it. My whole body was shaking from pure desire, and something else, something darker. I felt a fire inside me, reignite, I hated being teased, I hated being played with.

"Why did you do that?" I said darkly, my voice dangerously low, all the fear removed from my voice, replaced with nothing but rage.

"Because I had to make sure, I didn't know if I was reading the signs right, so forgive me if I had to get some 'hard' evidence, before moving forward."

"Evidence of what?!" I screamed, the guards finally knocked on the door, asking if everything was alright. I told them its fine, I was just a little frustrated.

"Careful, don't want anyone to walk in while you're in your present condition, would be 'hard' to explain wouldn't it," he laughed at his own joke.

"Don't fuck with me asshole, don't ever fuck with me like that, ever. I don't give a shit if you flirt, I don't give a shit if you even pretend like you like me, but don't ever fucking tease me. EVER!" I fired back, my voice darker and harsher.

I'd never stood up to anyone like this before, but it felt good. I was so angry so mad at being let on, only to be denied what I wanted. For years I was always passive, always just taking what people dished out to me, but this time was different, this time it was something else.

"That's my boy! This is who I wanted to see, this is the man I saw that first day you came to evaluate me. This is who I want," he said his eyes lighting up in a way that I'd never seen before, he was genuinely proud as if I was a baby who'd just taken their first steps.

"Every single session, you would pretend to be this cold and off-putting psychiatrist, this stone cold guy getting straight to the facts, but I knew that wasn't you. You don't think I watched you, Hartley, you may have been studying me, but I've been studying you as well. From the moment I saw you I knew you would be mine.

You thought that front you were putting up was working, but it wasn't, I know who you are, but I don't think you know just yet. You just need a little push, but before I could do that, I just had to make sure that you wanted to be mine as well, is that what you want Doctor, to belong to me. To be my valentine?" he asked.

"No, I don't, I don't want you, what happened there—it was a mistake, the next time you touch me I will call the guards in here, and they will subdue you. All that was—it was just a fluke, I didn't mean it I was just afraid, just repressed, that's all, that's it."

Hoping the words that I was saying had enough bite to them that they seemed like the truth. I'd never felt so overwhelmed before in my life. He was right, I did want him, I wanted him to be my first valentine, I wanted him to fuck me, I wanted to belong to him, but this was wrong.

This was all so wrong, it was one thing for him to flirt with me, it was one thing for me to jerk off to him, it was one thing for him to suspect I had feelings for him, but for him to actually know for a fact. This complicated things, this complicates everything. I told Strange that I'd be his psychiatrist because he would allow me to keep helping Sam.

Now, things were getting too real, too fast. It was no longer just an idea, but a reality. I can't be his psychiatrist now, not with him knowing that I have these feelings.

"You're hurting my feelings Doctor, you're going to make me reconsider the present I left for you at your apartment." He said darkly.

"You...you know where I live," I respond, the fire ebbing and the fear returning.

"Oh don't worry, my boys just paid your apartment a visit today, you know, to drop off my gift. Trust me, Doctor, if I wanted you dead..." he started and he rose from his seat, his straight jacket back on, he leaned in and whispered in my ear,

"You would be."

"What sick game are you playing?" I ask, regretting my words almost immediately because he was so close.

"No games, consider your present your first test, you can say you don't want me, but we both know that's untrue, so if you pass you'll be one step closer to this," he said as he licked and nibbled at my neck.

I was about to pass out right there but I had to keep myself together. If I was hard before, I was stone now, his tongue felt so good on my skin and my vision started to blur. He pulled away and looked at me, he smiled as his blue eyes clouded over.

"The choice is yours of course. I won't force you to anything you don't want to, what you choose to do with your gift is entirely up to you," he said as he walked back to sit down in his chair. I look at him, my breathing hitched in my breath.

"I won't be coming back, this is our last session Joker, this is it," I said trying my best to keep my resolve even though my obvious tint was becoming increasingly more obvious.

"Debatable, but I guess we'll just have to wait and see, won't we," he said finally, laughing softly to himself.

I looked at him again, picked up my notepad, and started to walk towards the door, as I readjusted dick to hide underneath my belt buckle, and buttoned my lab coat to hide any further evidence. Just as I was about to open the door he catches my attention with his last comment,

"Oh and Happy Valentine's Day, Doctor, glad I have someone special to share it with this year," he said, as he smiled wickedly.

"I'm not your valentine, Mr. Joker, goodbye, and have a nice life," I turned away from him as he waved me away, that same smile still etched on his face.

"See you soon," his voice trailed behind me as the guards closed the door behind me.

I was almost running down the hallway up the stairs so I could get my things. I ran to my office, passing by Harleen who was asking me what was wrong. I didn't respond, I just kept running. I got my stuff, locked my office, and headed out. I didn't even care what that Barbara and Thomas were cracking jokes as I was leaving the building.

I had to go, I had to get to my apartment, I had no idea what was going to be waiting there for me, but I knew I had to find out. Whatever it was, it was something that he left for me, some kind of test, and I had to fail it. I had to let him go, this was wrong, all of this was wrong. He was a sociopath, there was no telling what he'd left there, it could be anything.

I'd read his file before I knew the type of horrors he was capable of, and I was terrified of what I might find behind the door to my apartment. I finally made it apartment and suddenly I found myself afraid again as I approached the door.

I had no idea what 'present' I'd find on the other end, what test he'd had laid out for me, but whatever it was I had to prove to myself and to him, that I could control myself. He may have been hot, and though everything in me screams to be close to him, I know that this is not a possibility.

I cannot let this man into my life, he will destroy me, everything in me knows this as I turn the key in the lock. He'd said that if he wanted me dead I would be, but part of me still prepared myself in case there was somebody on the other side of the door that was about to ambush me.

I'd taken self-defense classes in college, I'd gotten pretty good at some mixed martial arts, and combining that with my gymnastics skills, I was very capable of taking care of myself. I wasn't that weak little boy anymore.

Then I opened the door, and all that resolve went away, all the strength I thought I held evaporated, all the confidence I had turned to fear and all I could do was stand in my doorway completely shaken. My father was sitting in a wooden chair in the middle of the floor, duct tape around his mouth, arms, and legs, and waist.

There was writing on the waist area of the duct tape and it said read, "Hope you like your gift!" I stood in shock as my father sat there struggling against the binding, his cries muffled by duct tape binding.

_______________________________________________________________________________ 

"Oh yes! Oh yes! Fuck me, oh god," the woman beneath the Joker screamed. He gripped her blonde locks roughly bringing her to his mouth for a rough and hard kiss.

He needed this, he'd been wearing this woman down for weeks, she'd finally given into him and snuck into his cell to give him much needed release. He slammed into her over and over again, fucking her harder than he's ever fucked anyone before. He'd always been into rough sex, but today he was especially rough.

He bit into her neck hard and she yelped in a mix of pain and pleasure, and he licked at the mark that he made. He scratched her, cut her, took out all his frustrations out on this woman. He hated what that man made him feel. The Joker wasn't a faggot, far from it. He loved pussy, he loved how this woman's tight wet walls tightened around his hard dick. He loved how warm she was, how much she'd wanted him, he loved fucking women.

But for the first time in his life, he found himself somewhat stimulated by the man who he had talked to a few hours earlier. He only planned to ask the man to be his Valentine and then tell him about his present. He wanted to scare him, wanted him to fall for him, but something went wrong. He saw something in the man, that fear, that attraction, he could practically feel it.

It should have disgusted him, but it turned him on. He was lucky that he'd been in enough straight jackets to know how to take one off with ease, he'd just planned on shaking him up a bit, but he saw something in him. He saw his desperation, the man could have called out, could have asked for help, but he didn't, and then he felt just how turned on he was by him.

The Joker was used to both sexes being attracted to him, men have flirted with him before, usually, those men would either end up dead or become his hyena's plaything. But this man, this man wasn't just turned on by him, he needed him. It was raw, unnatural, and powerful, that's what made him hard.

This man was so vulnerable, so desperate for attention, and the man wanted the Joker more than air in those moments. That's why he pressed himself closer to him, why he let the man feel his dick, he wanted to see what it was like, and it was amazing. The man's face had contorted in ecstasy.

He knew that if he wanted to, the man would have happily bent over and let him fuck him right there on the table, for any guard to walk in and see. The man was so desperate for him that it made the Joker temporarily forget his plan to destroy him. He wanted to have him for himself, but he pushed that thought away with every thrust into this blonde.

He was far from gay, and he'd never let a man lay with him, never let a man touch him, that wasn't how he got down. But part of him, deep down, a part that couldn't be silenced by slams into this woman's cunt, it was the voice that whispered to him, the voice that wanted to explore the darkness in the man from earlier.

Every session, the Joker had one plan in mind to break him, to make the psychiatrist, to make him want him so badly it hurt. So that he'd do anything for him. He'd did the same to the woman that was beneath him, moaning his name in ecstasy, she was his to a degree, but she wasn't completely broken yet. She still hadn't completely pledged herself to him, but she was close, so close.

But the image of the dirty blonde psychiatrist filled his head the more he slammed into her, his green eyes, his full lips, his juicy ass, it filled the Joker with more hatred because he could feel himself coming in her, she screamed once more riding out her orgasm.

He grunted angrily, his orgasm overtook him at the exact moment he was thinking about that man, and he hated himself for it. He pulled the woman in for a deep, hungry kiss, remembering the taste of the man's neck on his tongue. And it made him groan. The Joker, threw her onto the floor and started to fuck her again, his recovery time was pretty fast, she let out a surprised yelp but was enjoying the second round.

He fucked her harder this time, and the thoughts of the male psychiatrist faded away. He remembered who he was, and remembered what his plans were. He was going to break this man, he was going to destroy him, and maybe kill him to free him from the misery he is going to unleash on him. He started to laugh at the thought and the woman beneath him just groaned in pleasure.

This man meant nothing to him, just like the woman that was beneath him, the Joker doesn't care about anyone, no woman, no child, and definitely, no man. He destroyed people's lives, destroyed their minds, and cracked their souls. He was a person who wanted to sit back and watch the world burn, every single soul in it suffering while he looked on, enjoying the view.

This man was no different, he was his victim, and he was going to revel in the suffering he was going to cause. The woman yelped out a strangled cry of pleasure and he came again and collapsed on top of her, satisfied as his newfound resolve.

"So do you think he'll really do it?" the woman said, her legs still wrapped around his waist.

"You'd be amazed at what people would do if they are pushed hard enough," he answered, smiling into her neck.

"I don't know if I could though, I mean you're amazing, but doing that, I just don't know. I don't even know how you do it all the time and not even bat an eye, but Hartley, do you think he has the balls to really go through with it?" she asks.

"Don't know, but either way the plan will work, its just about having him at the right place at the right time. If he goes through with it, it just means I get the extra satisfaction of knowing that when I do end him, he'll truly be at the end of his rope.

He'll be too far gone to notice the physical pain, but not far enough so that he can feel that last emotional scar." He whispers in her ear and she shudders beneath him. He kisses her neck tenderly, reveling in her fear. She's afraid of him, she should be, because after he's done with Hartley, she was next.


	10. Chapter 10

I looked at the man in front of me. The monster that tormented me throughout my entire youth. The man who ruined my childhood, destroyed my self-worth, and beaten me within an inch of my life every single day. I looked at him struggle, I looked at his eyes, a mix of fury and fear within them.

He was struggling against the tape and I just stood there watching him for a few moments. I closed the door behind me slowly and just stood there in complete shock. Part of me fearful of the fact that the Joker not only knew where I lived and was seemingly able to get into my apartment at any moment he saw fit. The other part of me, the hidden part, was standing there enjoying my father in such a vulnerable position.

My father had always been strong, always been an Alpha male, but to see him put in a position where he was out of control, it gave me a wicked satisfaction that I couldn't deny. I saw him regard me, look at me the way he did when I was a kid, and I was taken out of my shock, I knew I had to release him, no matter how much every part of me was screaming out to keep in there.

I walked over to him slowly, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw a note on the kitchen counter. I looked at my father for a moment and looked at the note, and decided to walk over to the counter instead. I heard my father make a muffled screaming noise, but I ignored it and focused on figuring out what the note said.

Something inside me just wanted to prolong his release as long as I could. The truth was I didn't want to talk to him, I didn't even want to see him. It had been nearly four years since I saw him at my mother's funeral and he still was just as cruel as ever.

There was no shred of sympathy during her eulogy, no shred of sadness in his eyes at losing the only person in the world who actually loved him despite how horribly he treated them, and not a drop of empathy at his own son's hurt from losing his mother.

I remembered him looking at me with disgust when he saw me cry. I was nothing but a pussy to him, and he made sure I knew it every chance he got. I thought that once I'd moved out, once I'd left him behind that I would never have to face him again, and for a while, I didn't. But that day at the funeral, I'd realized that my father still had more power over me than I cared to admit.

Sure, I'd learned to defend myself, sure I learned how to fight, surprisingly well, but that was nothing compared to the psychological torture this man put me through. His abuse went deeper than physical, deeper than emotional, this man attacked my core as a human being, and seeing him again, no matter how much I have changed since the last time we spoke, was still a struggle. 

I walked to the kitchen island and saw a syringe filled with a strange liquid with a handwritten note attached to it. I read the writing and it said,

_Make him feel the pain without any of those nasty little screams, wouldn't want you to get caught, now would we?_

I looked at the syringe again and immediately realized what it was that I was holding in my hands. It wasn't a poison that I was holding in my hands, but something much worse, I'd read about it in one of his case files. During one of his killing sprees, he'd trapped six women in a large toy box and poisoned them with a neurotoxin that paralyzed their entire bodies.

Each time the toy box would wind up knives would fall from the top of it into various spots of their bodies. What made it so noteworthy was that he allowed one of the girls to escape and once the poison was washed from her system, she was able to inform the police that even though she was paralyzed she felt every single thing that was done to her.

Apparently, this poison was developed in such a way that the person was completely conscious during their paralysis which allowed them to feel the pain of what was being done to them.

I quickly put the syringe down and shook my head, at that moment I knew what my test was, and I knew what he wanted me to do. This was something that I'd thought about for years, I'd fantasized about my father's death for years, I wanted him to suffer ever since I was a little kid, half of the time it was the only thing that kept it all together.

The knowledge that one day he'd die, one day someone might kill him, one day he might understand what it was like to be truly afraid, but that day never came. It was painful to see my mother still dealing with my father after all of his abuse, but it nearly destroyed me when she died. For her entire life, all she knew was pain, all she knew was suffering, and it was all his doing.

She died, never knowing what it was like to be loved by a man who would treat her like a queen. She died, never knowing what real love felt like, and that was the nail in the coffin for me. Someone who was treated like dirt all their lives died, while scum like my supposed father gets to live. I knew what the Joker was doing, I knew that he was trying to get me to do something stupid, something I'd regret, but I wasn't going to.

I was going to fail his test, as much as I hated my father, as much as I loathed him, I knew that karma was going to come back for him. It wasn't my place to decide his fate, the world would do that for him.

So I put down the syringe down on the counter, and went to my drawer and pulled out a knife. I didn't have scissors in the house so a knife was the only thing I could use to free him from his binding. I walked over to him and started to cut each of his legs free and moved upwards. I could feel the hate burning through my veins at the man that sat before me, but I forced it all down to focus on the task at hand.

Once he was free he would leave and that was all that mattered at that moment, he'd be out of my life, and I never have to worry about being this close to him again. I reached up and cut one of his hands free and before I could react I felt his fist connect to my temple and sent me tumbling to the ground beneath him. My vision flashed white for a second at the sudden pain, as I fell to the ground.

It had been so long since I'd been hit that hard, I'd forgotten how strong he was, even at his age now, he still carried weight in his punches. He'd used his free hand to rip off the duct tape that was covering his mouth and starting working on getting his other hand free with much frustration.

"I know you had something to do with this, what, you got your little faggy friends to come and snatch up your old man cause you weren't man enough to do it yourself, fucking pussy," he spat out, venom still as deadly as ever. I slowly started to rise before he kicked me in the stomach which made me fall back to the ground.

"I didn't say you could get up, you lie there like the trash you are, hand me that fucking knife, and if you cut me I guarantee you I break both your arms, you hear me, faggot, hand it to me nice and slow," he continued.

Not wanting to go against his command, I turned the knife around with the handle facing him and the blade in my palm. He snatched it from me, and I felt the sting of the cut he left in my hand and tried not to cry out as the blood started to flow. I heard him chuckle a little as he returned to trying to free himself.

"God you're so fucking pathetic you know that. Weak and useless, just like your mother, can't even hand someone a knife without hurting yourself. Fucking idiot.

Always getting yourself hurt, just like her, if you just do as I tell you, you wouldn't get hurt now, would you? That's what I tried to get your mother to understand, but she wouldn't listen, always hurting herself trying to get away, always the cause of her own pain, dumb bitch," he said absently as he freed one hand and started working on the duct tape on his torso.

I lied there on the floor faced down, I took in his words, anger boiling inside me, but once again I suppressed it. Once he was free he would be out the door, he would be leaving, I won't have to worry about him anymore. I just had to hold on until he left, that's all I had to do.

As soon as he was free I felt the blows come. He kicked me in my side over and over again, he smacked me on my head and forced my head into the ground. He just kept kicking and hitting me, and just like I did when I was younger, I blocked it out, I stepped outside myself and let the pain fade away. He would only have power if I screamed, if I cried.

I knew I had the strength to fight back, I knew that I could stop him if I wanted to, but I couldn't I just couldn't. I felt like a failure in those moments. All those years training, all those years I tried to learn how to defend and protect myself so that I would never end up in a situation like this again, went out the window the moment I saw my father, the moment I laid eyes on him I was that little kid again, weak and defenseless.

He grabbed me by the collar of my shirt and started to punch me over and over again in my stomach and chest. He wanted me to look him in the eye as he kept hitting me over and over. I wanted to scream out. I tried to. I wanted to fight back, but everything in me just told me to submit, he would leave he has to, I'll never see him again, just let him do this and I fail.

The Joker will see that he has no power over me, I have my own free will, I make my own choices, and I choose to let this happen, to let this go.

I started to cough, tasting the penny flavored blood that was starting to fill my mouth. Eventually, he stopped, punching me twice in the face for good measure, thankfully he was too tired to hit me too hard in the face, so I knew it wouldn't take too much to cover the marks the next day. I was grateful that his old age has rendered him a little less active than he used to be.

When he released me, I was already assessing the damage. He'd hurt me, but not as badly as he did when I was younger. I felt him rise up, he was out of breath and he looked at me again with that same look of disgust in his eyes that always appeared when he saw me.

"You're nothing to me boy, you know that, my only child, a faggot, no doubt from always being around your whore mother, always under her. She was what kept you from being a man, a real man," He started.

"No," I choked out, immediately regretting my decision as he landed another kick to my stomach, I knew I shouldn't have said anything, I knew I should have let him just ramble on until he left, but I just couldn't bare to hear him talk about her like that.

"Shut the fuck up bitch!" he yelled,

"Women only speak when they are spoken to, you hear that? You can't be a man, and you're even lousier as a woman, I thought fags like you are supposed to be the girls? Know your place bitch."

I laid there as he continued to lay into me, going on and on about how I'm nothing but a little bitch this, and little girl that, sissy this and fag that. For someone who was supposed to be in a nursing home, he was still just as vicious as he'd always been for, age hadn't changed him at all.

It wasn't as if I was expecting an apology, but I would have at the very least, have liked him to just develop so form of Alzheimer's or cancer, something that would have killed him by now and slowly. But he didn't. He drank every single day of his life, smoked a pack of cigarettes daily, and he was still as healthy as ever, and it was my mother who was the first to die not him.

"You know, if it wasn't for her whiney ass attitude your mother would have lived long enough to see the fuck up her so-called child has become," he stated.

It was this comment that roused me out of my mind and forced me back into the moment.

"What did you just say?" I asked, only to be met again by another kick in the stomach, although the pain didn't register because I was so focused on my father's comment.

"Speak when spoken to, bitch, and like I said your mother would have been alive today, had she not been so fucking whiney about every fucking thing. God, that bitch was annoying," he continued,

"Always, John please this, John don't do that, I was sick of it, I was sick of her, all her incessant crying when you left, it was all too much. I couldn't take it anymore, I had to end it, had to end her, it was the only way I'd ever get peace in my own fucking home."

My mind was reeling at this newfound information, although my mind couldn't fully register what he was saying, I was going through my mother's corner report in my head. They told us that she died from a head injury, that she fell and hit her head on the counter because she'd mopped the kitchen just before and she slipped.

I accepted that answer because I knew how obsessive my mom was about cleaning, especially after a touch beatdown with my father, I knew that she felt that cleaning it all up would make her feel as if it didn't happen. So when they said she slipped, I accepted that answer because it seemed like something that would happen.

She was older, she was forgetful, and it was entirely believable that she would forget that she mopped and slip on the floor and hit her head. But part of me always thought that my father had something to do with it, but I didn't want to believe it. He may have abused us, he may have hurt us, but he would never kill us, he couldn't, at least that's what I wanted to believe.

I felt that familiar dark feeling rise in me again, the same feeling I'd felt when those front desk clerks made fun of me for chastising them about calling people crazy, that feeling that came when Sam told me the story about what happened to his sister, and the same feeling that I'd tried to fight for years.

It was the darkness that I knew was inside me, and I knew that I had to fight it, I knew that what my father was saying couldn't be true, but he kept talking, he kept revealing more and more information.

"She just kept whining, kept crying, god I couldn't take it anymore, she'd do it more and more when you went to college and at first I was fine, then over the next few years, it just got worse. She missed you so much, and soon even me beating it out of her wasn't enough.

She had to keep talking about how proud she was of you and how much she loved you. That bitch loved you more than she loved me, the day she 'slipped'," he said with air quotes,

"Was the happiest day of my life, the moment I knew I wouldn't have to hear her cry over missing her child, hear her gush over how proud she was of you, hear her talk about how much she loved you, it made me sick, I mean, how could anything love a faggot like you. That day I'd told her I heard enough and she had the nerve to defend you.

As if she had a say in what I decided. My word was final, but she didn't care, she was going to defend her baby, and so I punched her, hard, and she fell back. I didn't even know she mopped the floor until she was sliding back. As soon as I heard that crack I knew she was dead, but it was alright, the bitch had it coming."

I felt the stinging of tears falling from my eyes, the world seemed to slow down around me, I saw the utter apathy in his eyes and I knew that my father was telling the truth.

"Aww poor faggot gonna cry, poor pussy boy misses his mommy, well mommy's dead now, mommy can't love you anymo—" before he could finish his sentence, I yanked his left leg hard so that he fell back and hit his head hitting the arm of the wooden chair as he fell.

"What the hell? What the fuck did you just do to—I'll—I'll fucking kill you, you faggot who—who do you think—you are?" he tried to start but clutched his back trying to fight back the obvious pain I knew he was in.

My father has always had back problems so I knew that at his distance, his fall would have him on the floor for at least a few minutes, but that wasn't enough I needed him weak. I got up from the floor, ignoring the pain in my side from his blows from earlier, and walked to the kitchen. I knew that whatever I decided to do next, there would be no coming back from it.

There would no second chances, no taking it back, but I didn't care. I picked up the syringe and walked over to my father still struggling to get up, I kicked him in the side to make him fall flat again with a satisfying yelp escaping his lips, and I stabbed him in the arm with the syringe and pushed until all the liquid was inside him.

"What the fuck did you just—why did you—how didya—" I head his words begin to slur and I knew that the toxin was taking effect. I watched him try and struggle again and for a few moments, I thought it wasn't going to work until I saw him still suddenly and watched him as his pupils dialed, signifying that the toxin had taken full effect.

I looked at him for a few moments and thought over my options, I knew that what I had done was wrong, I knew that I should be calling the police, telling them that my father admitted to killing my mother. I knew that him spending the rest of his miserable life in prison was what he deserved but then I realized that I had no proof.

No way to prove to them what a monster my father was, he may have beaten my mother and me, but there was no record, no criminal report, nothing to prove that he'd had a history of violence. My mother never filed a domestic abuse charge against him, and there was no video or recording of him admitting to what he had done. I was completely on a 'he said, I said' basis, no one would believe me, no one.

I looked at my father again still lying there, I could hear the small whimpers escape from his mouth as he tried to fight the paralysis. I knew that it would last for about an hour before he'd gain any movement again, but I knew that what I had to do wouldn't take that long, not nearly.

I knew that I couldn't let this man walk out of my house after admitting what he had done, the legal system would fail me, the laws of karma have already failed me, the only way that anything was going to happen, the only way I'd get justice is if I take it for myself. I knew this why the Joker brought him here.

He knew how much I hated my father somehow, he knew how much I wanted him dead, he knew that this is something that I wanted to do for years, but never had the guts to actually do. I wasn't a murderer, I never was, I know I'm not, or at least that's what I tried to tell myself as I picked up the knife that had fallen to the floor next to the chair.

I didn't want to hurt people deep down, my darkness may have been strong, but I was stronger, I don't hurt people. At least that's what I told myself as I rose the knife above my head and stabbed my father in his left calf. I hear him whimper and saw the blood trickle down his leg from the wound.

This wasn't who I was, this isn't who I am, but all I could hear was the Joker's voice in my head, telling me how good it felt to hurt people, how it made him feel alive. And that first stab, the first time the blade pierced my father's flesh I felt myself come alive for the first time in twenty-six years.

It was as if for my entire life I'd been waiting for this moment, the moment where I hurt someone for the first time. I knew this was wrong, I knew it was, but the darkness clouded my mind with pure rage, he'd killed my mother, he'd killed my childhood, he'd killed my everything, and now it was my turn to return the favor.

I pulled the blade from his leg and watched the blood drip from it like a leaky faucet. I was mesmerized by the color, the deep shade of red that ran from my lips every time he hit me, every bloodied nose, every busted lip, all of that red, and now it was his blood that I was seeing before me, not my own.

I felt his eyes look at me, I'd expected to see them filled with rage, but I was surprised to see that they were fearful. Never, would I have thought that my father was even remotely capable of being afraid, but he was, he was afraid and in pain, and I smiled. I know I shouldn't have smiled, I know that I should stop now because I was going to jail.

I'd just stabbed my father in the leg and I knew that I was going to jail, but I didn't care. I knew that this is what the Joker wanted, but I didn't care. I knew that giving into my darkness this way would me that I would lose everything, I would lose any chance at helping Sam, all those years of schooling gone to waste for one mistake, one lapse in judgment.

All these rational thoughts were racing through my head, but I didn't care. I started to slice now, from the entry wound, I sliced back and forth back and forth, working my way up his leg. Even through his khaki slacks, I could see the blood staining his pant leg. This was wrong, I kept telling myself, I shouldn't be doing this, yet my hand kept going in their consistent motion.

"Do you know how long I've dreamt of this daddy," I said absentminded, as I continued my assault up his left leg and made my way over to his right.

His whimpers still barely audible and I was beginning to see the slight glassiness in his eyes from tears that were trying to fall.

"I would wake up in the middle of the night, hoping, praying, that when you came home drunk one day, you'd choke on your own vomit, get into a violent car accident from those countless nights you'd driven while drunk.

I thought that maybe just maybe you'd have a heart attack in your sleep from all the greasy take out you'd eat, or maybe even get diabetes and have some part of your body amputated," I said as I drove the knife into his right calf and started to twist it a little.

I heard his whimpering grow a little louder and tears start to fall. I watched the puddle of blood grow and I knew that if I kept it up, he'd be dead soon, but I didn't want him to die so quickly. No, I wanted him to suffer. I pulled the knife out his calf and worked my way up his arms, a slice here, a slice there, I started counting at first but got bored of it after I got to about forty.

I made sure they were shallow cuts, just enough for him to feel it, but not enough to bleed him dry, I wanted him to say alive for as long as I could. If I was going to jail for this, I was going to enjoy it.

I'd worked my way up the other arm before I finally decided that I was satisfied with my work. I knew this was sick, my taking pleasure in his pain, but I couldn't help but feel excited, both emotionally and physically. It was hot, hurting him this way, it wasn't that I was turned on by my father, I was turned on by his pain.

I was turned on because I knew that he was suffering because I was making it so, it filled me with this fire that I'd only felt when I was around the Joker. Before I knew it I was straddling my father and I looked at his fearful eyes, he had no idea what was about to happen next, but he was so in pain that I suppose he didn't care.

I watched him, so of his movement returning to his body, but only a little. I'd realized that'd I'd spent nearly forty-five minutes cutting my father and I was running out of time. He was gaining control over his body again, a little at a time, but I didn't care, I balled my hand into a fist and smacked him across the face twice. I looked at the bruises I'd made on his skin and caressed his face before I punched him again.

"Oh daddy, how does it feel, to be weak, to be vulnerable, to be helpless. How does it feel to have your faggot of a son on you like this," he looked at me, a new fear in his eye,

"Oh don't flatter yourself daddy, I won't be doing anything like that to you, oh no daddy, I'd rather die then to touch you like that, but you, you had no problem touching mommy like that did you? You'd force yourself on her at nights when you came home drunk. No matter how she felt, no matter what she said, no matter how much she begged you to stop, you still forced yourself into her didn't you?

You made her want it, you forced her to be with you, you destroyed her. You put your disgusting body on top of her and forced her to be with you," I said to him darkly, my knife between my legs near his crotch. I could feel him whimper, feel him want to cry out and I couldn't help but giggle.

"Are you afraid daddy, that's how I felt," I said as I pressed the blade of the knife into his pants, feeling it get closer and closer to its prize,

"Do you know what its like to hear your mother scream out in pain because your father is forcing himself into her? Do you know what its like to wake up in the middle of the night hearing your mother whimper in the bathroom washing the blood off of her panties because you fucked her so hard she bled?

Do you have any idea what it was like having to see her barely be able to speak after you forced your sad piece of manhood down her throat? But I can tell you don't like being forced into things, do you, daddy? Having the power ripped away from you and all you can do is watch as someone takes a piece of you without your permission." I said as the blade pierced the soft flesh beneath the pants.

I could practically feel my father's body convulse for a split second at the new pain he was experiencing. He was still under the paralysis, but I knew that he was gaining more and more of his body back, but he still is unable to cry out, unable to stop me.

Once the knife made it through the soft flesh and connected to the hardwood floor beneath it, I began to drag the knife forward so I could tear the flesh apart and yanked it out and I watched him start to shake.

I knew that this would kill him. I knew that even if I did call the ambulance, he would have lost too much blood by the time they'd arrived. I knew that he was dying and it was my fault, and I couldn't be happier. I knew that I should be sad, I knew that I should be afraid, but the part of me that I'd hidden for so long, the darkness I'd beaten back for years, was finally at the surface and there was no turning back now. I took the knife in both my hands and looked at my father as he shook.

"Don't worry daddy, I'll make the pain stop," I said as I drove the knife into his chest,

"I'll make all the pain stop," I pulled it out and drove it back in, again and again, and again.

I felt the blood start to spray on my face, the sticky liquid staining the floor around me. I knew that this was bad, this was really bad, but I kept stabbing. I loved the feeling of the blade piercing through his chest over and over again. It was a little harder than I thought, especially when I got hitched on the bone, but when I wiggled the blade, I was able to free it so that I could stab him again.

Before I knew it, I was covered in his blood, my face, my hands, my shirt, my shoes, everything was covered in blood. I'd lost count of how many times I'd stabbed him, and I didn't care, I never felt freer in my life, happier. I let the knife fall to my side as I drooped my head back and fell to my sides.

I looked at my fathers mangled, lifeless, bloodied body and smiled to myself. I was as if a weight was lifted from my shoulders, I felt completely free from constraints. For the first time in my life, I was free, I'd taken my fate in my own hands, I knew the decision I'd made.

I knew the price of this choice, and I couldn't be happier, I was in complete euphoria, so much so that I didn't even notice the front door of my apartment open.

I rolled off my father and laid there in the pool of blood next to him, my eyes closed, waiting to hear the policemen read me my rights and take me away. I'd waited for the scream of some onlooker who just happened to walk past and see the horrific scene before them. My eyes were closed, but I knew that I was wearing the biggest smile I'd ever had before.

I was perfectly content with what was going to happen next, perfectly content with rotting in jail, but as I laid there bathed in my father's blood I heard the door of my apartment close. I felt someone hoist me up from the floor and wrap me in some type of cloth. I opened my eyes and saw that there were five masked men in my apartment, wearing an assortment of Commedia masks.

They'd come in with a body bag, cloths, buckets and various cleaning products. Before I could even ask what was going on the man carrying me took me to my shower and started to undress me. Under normal circumstances, I would have asked who he was or why he was doing this, but I was still in a post-kill haze. It was as if I was on drugs, the kind of euphoria I was feeling, I could care less that I was completely naked in front of a strange masked man.

He lifted me into my tub and turned on the shower head, it was the rush of cold water covering my body that brought me back to reality. It was like someone had electrocuted me and I was finally taking in what was actually happening around me.

"Who are you?" I choked out, the cold water making the pain of the blows my father gave me more noticeable.

"Wash yourself well, don't leave any traces of blood." The masked man said curtly, avoiding my question.

He collected my blood-soaked clothing, and walked out of the bathroom and closed the door behind him. I did as I was told and started to wash my body of all the blood that covered it. I turned the water to a lukewarm temperature so I could soothe the bruises and washed my face of the blood stains.

I washed my hair and it turns out that blood-soaked hair was a little more difficult to wash out because I was a dirty blonde. I had finally got all the blood off and I got a towel that I kept above my toilet on a rack. I started to pat myself dry, and I looked in the mirror. I couldn't believe what I had done just a few minutes earlier.

I couldn't believe that I killed someone just a few minutes earlier, more importantly, I couldn't believe that after I'd done it, I felt absolutely nothing, but joy. I searched my face for regret, for guilt, for some inclination that I felt bad for having done what I had done so violently, but there was none. It was as if nothing had happened, but everything happened, all at once.

I felt renewed, reborn, and completely redefined. The fear that filled my heart was gone, the fear that I wasn't good enough was gone. It was like killing my father took all that fear, all that repressed anger from years of bullying both at home and at school, was finally released. I can't even begin to describe the freedom I feel in this moment, but I knew it would all change once I came back to the reality that there was a dead body in the next room.

I opened the bathroom door slowly, my towel wrapped around my waist, I knew that the sight before me was going to be gruesome, and I was going to have to have to face the consequences of my actions. Only, when I opened the bathroom door, there was nothing there, I know I showered, at best for fifteen to twenty minutes, not nearly enough time for those men to have cleaned up everything.

But to my surprise, the house was immaculate. It was as if nothing had happened. I walked over to the spot where my father's body had lain, and the only indication of what happened earlier was the three indentations of the wooden floor where I stabbed his legs and dick, but other than that there was no trace of any murder.

I looked over at the counter and there was a note on the kitchen island, I walked over to the counter, barefoot and still dripping a little, and read it. This is when I knew things had changed because the note I read should have made me feel saddened, but I couldn't help but feel my heart leap for joy at the two words that were scribbled onto the paper,

_You passed._


	11. Chapter 11

I moved through my daily tasks robotically, my mind was still reeling from the events that happened before. I barely took notice to the jabs that the desk clerks took at me when I came in, I didn't even notice the time passing or even take notice to the fact that Dr. Sorkin hadn't bothered me at all that day.

Apparently, she'd realized that I wasn't exactly in a talking mood and decided it would be best for her not to try an approach me. Although, today, I don't think I would have minded so much had my hate for her distracted me from the thoughts that were plaguing my mind. I still could not believe what happened yesterday, it all felt like a horrible, terrible, dream.

I've read stories and watched movies where I would see people murder each other, but this was entirely different. In the movies people just see these monsters kill one another, but in reality, so much more goes into killing someone than I ever would have imagined.

Yesterday, before I'd gone to sleep, I was joyous, I was happy, this man was finally out of my life and I was free from him. I'd killed a human being and I never felt more alive. Although waking up the next morning, the crushing reality of what I had done truly sank in. I never thought I was capable of something so heinous, the smell of his blood, the fear in his eyes, all came rushing back to me.

But what frightened me most was not the fact that I took his life, but how much I enjoyed watching the light leave his eyes. Hearing his final exhale before his life completely ebbed from his body. Normal people, regular people, were not supposed to feel this way after committing patricide, but I felt absolutely inspired.

The only thing I feared was getting caught, it was the fear that I would be put away forever that made me regret my actions. The whole day I was on the edge of my seat waiting for a detective or a cop to knock at my door and tell me that my life was over. I waited and waited to see if someone was going to notice my strange behavior and piece it all together.

The whole time I cursed myself for not feeling guilty, because I knew as both a psychology major and a moral human being, that a person was supposed to feel some form of guilt after they take a life. The only regret that I felt was that I wished that I made it last longer.

I wished that I made him suffer more. It felt so good, so therapeutic to snuff his life out of existence, it made me feel like I was on top of the world and at the bottom at the same time. However, there was no denying what I felt when I read that note from the Joker, when he told me that I passed, I couldn't help that my heart skipped a beat.

In some sick way, knowing that the Joker approved of what I had done made me that much happier. It gave me a form of satisfaction that I hadn't felt since I was little, someone being truly proud of me. Words couldn't even begin to describe how my feelings have changed for him after what happened last night.

No one had ever done something like that for me, something so thoughtful, so sweet. I tried to remember, tried to convince myself that the only reason he had done it was because he was testing me, toying with me. I knew he was trying to crack me, I knew that by killing my father I was that much closer to being something that I was trying so hard to hide.

I'd fantasized about killing people before, hell, I'd fantasized about hurting people before, but I never actually did anything, I just forced those thoughts out of my head and tried to ignore them. I knew that it was just the darkness, it was just something I had to live with, something I had to fight against every second of every day no matter what.

But in just a few short weeks, this man has completely flipped my world upside down, made me unleash something inside of me that I locked away since I was little.

He saw something in me, he saw something that he could bring to the surface, and I let him. Instead of proving him wrong, instead of showing myself I was stronger than my carnal desires, I completely gave in and now I had no idea which way was up anymore. I had no idea how I was supposed to feel about anything anymore.

I decided to just turn off my feelings until I spoke to the only person who I knew could help me make sense of it all. I'd been sitting there with Sam in silence for the past few moments trying to figure out just how I could approach him about what I was feeling. He'd always started our sessions off trying to ignore me, or pretending I wasn't there just to spite me, but this time, I actually welcomed it.

I was so afraid of what I was about to admit, or how I was going to admit it. How was I going to help my friend face what he had done, tell him that killing people is wrong, when I did the very same thing a loved every second of it. How was I supposed to convince him that what he was doing, what he had done was wrong, when deep down I felt like he was completely right. I had a job to do, one purpose, to help Sam, and I was already failing.

I knew I should try and get closer, try to get him to open up some more, but all I could think about was me. I needed my best friend to tell me everything is okay, I needed my brother to tell me that he loved me, I needed my Sammy back because I was so confused and so afraid, I had no idea where else I could turn.

"Ivy, I know that you're mad at me," I started, he was sitting on the floor, his back against the wall and turned his head to me slightly finally acknowledging my presence.

"But—but—something happened to me, I did something, something bad and I—" I tried to choke out but he immediately cut me off.

"Wait wait wait, you're sitting there, the supposed psychiatrist, and you want to tell me about your problems, I don't think so. Try again Doctor," he said curtly and turned away again.

"Ivy please, I just need someone to talk to, you don't even have to say anything. If you just list—" I started a second time.

"No, Doctor, I don't care about your problems, I don't care what you have to tell me, and I don't want to talk to you or vice versa. Just sit there for the next hour doodling on that notepad of yours. Assess my aloofness and move on, this isn't a sharing session today, nor will it ever be again.

I tried to scare you away, that didn't work, I tried to make you feel like shit, that didn't work, you just keep coming back over and over and over again, it's getting extremely annoying."

"It's because I car—"

"I know, I know, the same old pitch, you're my best friend, you're my brother, I need to help you, I need to save you, boo who," he said mockingly,

"You know I'm just really tired of your explanation, your pretending, we both know the real reason why you're down here, why you came to Gotham to 'save me'.

"What are you talking about?" I asked.

"It's the same reason you're trying to open up to me now about whatever 'bad' thing you did. Because you're alone and so very lonely," he said simply, still not looking at me.

"That's not true, Sam and you know it, I've always been here for you, you were the reason I came back, I needed you, I—"

"Stop fucking lying Hartley!" He screamed, this time facing my eyes directly,

"I'm not stupid, I know the kind of person you are, the kind of person you always will be. So please, stop lying to yourself, you come in here all doe-eyed and fearful, hoping that I'd take pity on you and let you talk to me as if we were still the friends we once used to be."

"But we are friends, Sammy, you're my best friend, you always will be, no matter how much you claim to hate, I know that you loved me, I know that—"

"Exactly, loved you, past tense, for years I'd loved you, for years I was the only person who ever gave a shit about your problems about what you had going on in your life. For years I was the only person you could rely on, the only person who truly cared for you and stood up for you.

For years I was the one who helped patch you up when your dad got a little too rough. For years, I was the one who was there for you when you needed a shoulder to cry on. For years I was the one who made you smile when you were in pain, the one who made you feel good when no one else would, for years I was that best friend, I was your brother, and I loved you more than I ever loved anyone in my life.

Then you left me, left me behind as if I was nothing more than a stranger, and treated me like one too, leaving me wondering what was going on, what was happening, why was the only person I cared about deserting me, ignoring me." He said, I could feel the bitterness in his voice, and I remembered just how much I hurt him.

"Sam, I'm sorr—"I started again.

"I'm talking! I let you say your piece for these past few weeks, I let you analyze me, I let you take your fucking notes and try to figure out what's wrong with me and I'm fucking tired of it. I'm tired of you having this notion that you can 'help me' as if there is something wrong with me. As if I'm wrong.

For years I hated my family for deserting me, I hated them for treating me like I meant nothing to them, but I let that all go when I met you. I'd finally found someone who understood me." I picked up my notepad and was about to take some notes, knowing that the conversation I'd wanted to have was not going to happen, at least not today.

"I swear if you even so much as put a dot on that paper, I will use every drop of strength I have in me to kill you right where you sit, put the fucking notepad down, and listen for once in your life, just shut the fuck up and listen, isn't that literally in your job description." He yelled.

I did as he asked and looked at him, I'd never seen him this angry before. He'd gotten pretty heated during our sessions, but this was the first time I'd seen this kind of fury in him. It was something entirely new.

"You sit there on your high horse, thinking you have all the answer, that you can fix me, but you can't, because unlike you Hartley, I knew who I am. I know what I want, and I will stop at nothing to get it. You, you're just pathetic, waltz in here all high and mighty, acting as if you were here for me when you were just here to try and rekindle the fire that you extinguished.

You come in here trying to talk to me about your life about something you did, and you expect me to care? We are not friends Hartley, we are not brothers, and you mean nothing to me. Do you hear me Hartley, nothing. And you want to know why, its because I know that deep down, the only reason you are here, the only reason you came back to 'save me' was because you couldn't make it out there in the real world.

You couldn't find someone like me out there, could you? Or even better, you couldn't make normal friends out there so you decided to come back to old faithful huh? Come in here and rescue me from myself, be my knight and shining armor and I was what?

Just supposed to forget all the shit you put me through, all the pain you left me feeling, the hole you ripped out in my heart when you left me?"

His words hit me over and over again, worse than anything my father could have said. Worse than any punch to the face, any kick in the stomach, and physical pain imaginable could begin to describe the crushing guilt I felt at his words. I tried to keep the tears from falling, I know that I couldn't cry in front of him, I know I shouldn't because then he would know that he got to me, but I couldn't help it.

I've been called names before, I've had much worse things said to me than what he had said, but hearing him say this, hearing the only person whose opinion of me I actually valued, I couldn't take it. I felt myself crack under the weight of his words, I felt myself crack under the weight of what I had done to him, I cracked under the weight of my fear of losing the only person I'd ever loved.

He looked at me and barely took notice at my tears, he just continued on, making sure I understood that he wasn't going to waver,

"Yes, now you're getting, now you're understanding, now you know. It doesn't feel too good, does it? It doesn't feel good when someone makes you feel like dirt does it. Nine years, Dean, nine years, that feeling you've got right now, that's exactly how I felt.

I racked my brain day in and day out, trying to figure out what I did to make you desert me, what I did to make you leave, what I did to make you go away. I loved you so much, you were my everything, my whole world, no boyfriend, no girlfriend, could ever take your place. You were always my first love, my first everything.

And for you to just up and leave me, never looking back? That fucking hurt Dean, it hurt, bad. Then to see you come in here, trying to get me to listen to some sob story about whatever the fuck happened to you or whatever the fuck you did, that was the last straw. I don't fucking like you Dean, I don't want you around, and I said it once and I'll say it again.

I hate you. You left me behind, not the other way around, I was always there like a trained little puppy waiting for his owner to return, not anymore. I'm not you're fucking pet anymore Dean, and I never will be, ever again. You're not going to come into my life, act like everything is okay and pretend like I'm supposed to just accept you with open arms."

"We're brothers Sammy, remember, the Winchesters, no matter what we stick together, no matter what, we'd do anything for each other, we made a pact you, you can't just act like that didn't mean anything" I pleaded, barely able to get the words out through my hiccupping cries.

"How dare you?!" he yelled,

"You think that just because we made some pact when we were kids that I'm supposed to honor that, because, what, you asked so nicely. Grow up Hartley, we're not kids, we're not brothers, and you're not my friend. And for your information, I fucking did, I _was_ there for you.

I would do anything for you, I did stick with you no matter what. You were the reason the pact ended, you were the reason that we aren't friends now. This is your fault Hartley, not mine. You aren't that Dean, anymore, you're just Hartley now, a sad adult who is begging his childhood friend to love him again, because he's so desperate, so lonely, so needy, he can't bear to be without someone else."

"It's not you. This isn't you. This is Ivy, he just wants to go away, I'm not going anywhere, I won't leave, I'm not going. I'm not going. I'm not leaving. You're not him, you're not him, you're not Sam," I whisper cry to Sam, more so trying to reassure myself than anything else.

This wasn't my Sammy, this was Poison Ivy, this wasn't him. I had to believe that, Sam would never say anything like this to me, he would never make me feel like this, not after what I've been through, this isn't him.

"Is that what you think? That this is just, what, some alternate personality that has taken him over. This isn't the poltergeist Hartley, this is the real me, accept it."

At that I nearly leaped out of my chair and slammed my hands against the glass, I could tell he was shocked at my sudden movement when he flinched slightly.

"I don't know what you are, but you're not Sam, this isn't the real you, you can fight this Sammy, you can win, I know you can. I believe in you, we can both fight this darkness, it doesn't have to be this way, we can fight this darkness together.

You don't have to be like this, this doesn't have to be you, you can be better, you don't have to be this way. Please, Sammy, I need you, please come back to me." I cry out, the tears springing from my eyes like waves on an ocean.

I had no idea how much stress I was holding back, how much I needed this, the tears were falling so fast that I could barely see anything front of me. I slid to the floor, hands still pressed into the glass. I was so lost in this moment, completely and totally lost. I'd given into my darkest desires, I'd killed my own father, I'd lost my only friend, and I think I was falling in love with a sociopath.

At that thought, I felt myself convulsing in fear and tears. I'd never admitted it to myself, but it was the truth, and last night, I realized it. Seeing that note, seeing his men clean up my mess, knowing that I passed his test, I felt like I was falling for him, and I didn't want to. I knew what that would mean, I knew that he would destroy me, I knew that he would use me, but my body was aching for him.

My body needed him, and if I wasn't careful, I was going to give in. All I had was Sam, he was the only thing I had left, the only thing that was still a constant, without him, I would be alone. He was right about me being alone, he was right about me coming back for him, I was selfish. I came back because I was afraid.

Without him in my life, there is no person who could know me like that, love me like that, be there for me the way he was. I didn't know it when I left, but I realized that now. I realized that he was the only person who could ever love me, without him, I am lost, nothing left to tether me to reality.

"Please Sam, I need you, please come back, please come bac—" I choked out, I felt myself breaking apart.

My head was aching badly from the tears, my eyes were so blurry from tears that I could barely make up Sam slowly sliding down and facing me. I looked at him, wiping the tears from my eyes trying to make out his expression, but when my vision cleared, the sight before left me nearly breathless.

It was my Sam, not Poison Ivy, but Sam before the accident. His hair was the dark brown shade that I loved so much, his skin's green hue had returned to the former tan shade that I remembered, and he looked completely and totally human.

"Sammy, is—is it really you?" I ask tentatively, touching the glass tenderly as if to try and caress his face.

"Yeah, Dean, it's me," he said, he gave me a small smile and looked into my eyes.

I remembered when I first saw him, I always loved the shade of green my eyes were, but something about seeing that shade on him just made me so calm. It was like it was another little special thing that the two of us shared. His green eyes as Ivy were always unsettling, they were so unnaturally green that it often was difficult to stare at them for too long.

I wanted to ask him how he'd done this, how he'd changed, but none of that matter, looking at him, seeing my best friend again was all that matter. I was still crying but this time, my tears were that of relief.

"Sam...I missed you so much," I said finally after staring at him for a few moments.

"Did you? Really?" he asked.

"Yes, I thought I'd never get the chance to see you again, I thought—I thought I lost you too, please don't go anywhere, please don't leave me again," I choked out again.

"Oh Dean, I'm not going anywhere, remember we're best friends no matter what. I'm sorry about what I said, I wasn't myself, I don't know what happened, I just I lost myself," he said, and I could hear his voice crack a little.

"It's okay, you're here now, don't go away, please don't go away. I can't keep fighting without you," I say, tears still running down my face. I have never cried this much for this long in my entire life, but it was just all too much for me. It had to come out, I couldn't lose Sam too.

"I just, I need to know one thing Dean, and I promise, I won't leave you again, I promise I'll stay," he begs.

"Anything,"

"Did you—did you really fall for this?" he choked out, feigning tears.

"What?" I say confused as I look into his eyes, only to be met completely black eyes.

His black eyes suddenly sent ripples through his eyelids all across his face and through his hair. His tanned skin returning to its green hue, his dark brown locks taking on their red-orange like hue again. He chuckled lightly as his dark eyes faded back to the unnatural green color they were before.

"How did you—but I thought that—" I started, the questions forming, but I was unable to speak them.

"Oh Hartley, poor gullible Hartley. It's called camouflage. Can't blend into the crowd with green skin and red hair now can I?" He asked rhetorically.

"But I thought—I thought that," I started again.

"You thought what, that you broke through, that you got me back," he chuckled darkly,

"I don't think so. It's over Hartley, you mean nothing to me now. You left me, deserted me, when I needed you most, so consider this payback. I hope hurts Hartley. I hope you suffer. Maybe then you'll understand the pain of losing the only person who loves you. How does feel, to be alone, completely and totally alone."

I heard his voice crack a little at the end of his sentence, but it was lost to me. He was gone now, truly. I knew that there was no getting him back, I knew that my brother, my friend, was gone. I knew that the only person in the world that could ever love me was gone. I knew that I was alone, no mother, no father, no friend, no anything. It was just me.

There was nothing else left for me anymore, he was right, if I meant nothing to him, how could I mean anything to anyone else. He was the only person, the last person to know the real me, without him, there was no one. I tried to look at him, but he turned away from me, I knew that he had nothing left to say to me, I knew there was no coming back from this. I'd fucked up, and there was no changing that.

"I want a new psychiatrist or I swear will end your career, I'll tell them everything about us, every detail. You hear me Hartley, I. Hate. You. Don't ever come back here again," he said, I heard him whimper slightly, I knew he was crying, but I couldn't focus on that.

I gathered my things and walked back up the stairs. I knew there was no room for reconciliation between the two of us, he was too hurt and I'd waited too long. That was my mistake, my screw up, and now I was alone again. I was completely alone. No friends. Dead family. Just me and darkness together at last.

Though there was still one flickering light, one silver lining in this who situation, I may have lost the last person who could ever care for me, but I still had one last person, one last soul who understood what it was like to be alone. I raced to the elevator, typed in the code, and her the satisfying click that signified the elevators decent to the lower level.

I knew what this would mean, I knew that this was a bad idea. The way I was feeling, the desperation that wafted from me was nearly palpable. This was a very bad idea, but I needed something, anything to make me feel something, something that wasn't loneliness. As the doors opened and I walked down the familiar hallway.

I'd finally made it to the two large men that guarded the doorway of the room in which I was trying to access. I gave them my access code and didn't even wait as I barreled through the door and shut it behind me.

There he was sitting there, a smile crawling on his face, the sheer joy of it nearly made me melt. I did that. I was the reason he was smiling. I knew that whatever was going to happen next would be bad. I knew that whatever I decided to say and do within these next few moments would dictate the way my life went forever.

I knew I had to choose my next moves very carefully, but it didn't matter. None of the matter. He made me feel something, fear, anger, sadness, joy, excitement, all emotions, all at once. And I reveled in it. I needed it right now. He regarded me with a knowing smile like he was telling me that he knew all my dirty little secrets, and I loved every second of it. I watched him, his dark glare glossing over my body before he finally spoke.

"Dr. Quinzel, fancy meeting you here again, thought you said that was our last session? What? Didn't stick?" He said simply, letting out a dark chuckle.

I didn't answer him, instead, I walked over to my seat, slid the chair out, and took a seat and looked directly into those beautiful blue eyes.

"I think we're going to have a lot to talk about today, Doctor, don't you think?" he said, lowering his head into a devilish smile that showed all his teeth, like a lion catching its prey. I looked at him, not dropping my eyes at the intensity he filled them with and answered.

"Shall we begin?" I asked.

"We shall." He said darkly.


	12. Chapter 12

"So," he pauses,

"I take it that you enjoyed my little present?"

I look at him, his knowing gaze covers my body like a blanket, and I feel completely vulnerable. Lying to him was completely out of the question, I knew that the men that came to my house were his, I knew that he knew what I had done, but what I didn't know was why. I had no idea what his end game was and at this point, I no longer cared.

This man was a master manipulator, he didn't wait for someone to give him what he wanted, he just took it no matter the cost. I knew all of this information, I knew that any further conversations with this man would result in me being nothing more than a pawn in his game of chess. All of this was very clear to me, but with everything that's happened with Sam, with my father, he was all that I had left.

I should have left right then and there, I should have saved myself from whatever manipulation tactics he was going to use on me, but I stayed exactly where I sat because if I left this room, if I left him, there was no one else left for me. The only person in the world that I loved was lost to me, the person I hated more than anything was finally dead, and I was the reason for both of these situations.

Without someone to hate, without someone to love me, the only person I had left was him. He was the last of the people in this world that had any feeling toward me, whether it was selfish or not. I knew he was just using me, I knew that he was trying to break me, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered anymore.

"Don't be cute, you know what I did, and I know that you covered it up, and I know why," I say cryptically, my voice low and stoic.

"Really? Enlighten me." He asks, leaning back in his seat, his straightjacket hugging his body tightly.

"Power. Power over me. I'm your psychiatrist, I'm the only person who has access to you, the only person who could help get you out of here. You sent my father, because somehow, you found out how much I hated him, how much I wanted him dead.

You knew that I would try to let him go, and you knew he'd be as much of a dick as he's always been. And you knew that I'd kill him for it. That's why you pressed yourself against me, that's why you asked to be my valentine, somehow you knew I'd be weak for some attention, any attention, and you played on my weakness.

That's why you pulled away just at the right time, you wanted me angry, you wanted me upset, and you wanted to channel that anger towards him. That's why you sent your posse over to clean up my mess.

You knew that if you had my fathers body, you would have the evidence, you could blackmail me into helping you. Helping you escape, am I correct so far?" I state. He didn't answer, only raised his eyebrow in response, as if interested in what else I had to say.

"Well, there's just one thing wrong with that plan, you don't have to blackmail me Mr. Joker, because there's nothing left for me here anymore. You won, I've lost everything, everyone. As much as I hated him, he was all the family I had left, all the fight I had left, he was my motivation to help people.

He was my motivation to be good because I always knew, that deep down, I would never be as bad as he was. But last night all that changed, the moment I stabbed, I lost the last piece of myself that made me normal, and now, now I'm a monster.

You know, I came here trying to make a difference, trying to help a friend fight his darkness, but how can I help him when I'm just as dark as he is. He hates me, the only guy who ever loved me, hates me. Without him, I have nothing, no one.

So, if you want to blackmail me, go ahead, I've got nothing else to lose, no one else to fight for," I finish and the tears start to fall again, I know that I should not have said all this but it was true.

I had no one else to turn to, no one else to confide in, he was the only person I had left who I could be completely honest with. I heard some shifting in the seat in front of me, and I knew that he was out of his straight jacket again. I had no idea how he was able to do that, but I didn't care, I didn't even bother to look up when he came around the table next to me.

If he killed me, it would be a welcome release, I was so tired of hurting, so tired of fighting, but what happened next took me by complete surprise. He'd pulled me from my seat, and I limply followed his direction, and I felt him wrap his arms around me in a hug. On instinct, I buried my face in his neck and continued to cry.

I felt his skin on the nape of my neck and even though he looked as pale as a vampire, his skin was warm to the touch. It was the first time I'd been held like this in a very long time, I could feel my body react to this contact, and I had no idea how long it was going to last. I let my hands awkwardly wrap around his waist and as I gave into the embrace I could feel my body relax.

It was so soothing to be wrapped in the arms of a man. It was so different, so reassuring, it was like he was taking all my pain and absorbing it from every dark recess in my mind. He pulled away and looked me in the eyes, I was floored at how caring he'd appeared, it was like a switch.

One moment he appeared just as he is described in his file, a sociopathic murderer, and in the next moment he would turn his face slightly, squint his eyes a certain way, and you would have sworn that he'd looked almost like an angel. I could stare into his eyes all day, it was like he was piercing into my soul, looking past my pain, past my hopelessness, and seeing me in my rawest form.

At that moment I'd realized why he was known as the master manipulator, why he was feared by most of the criminal community, and why he'd successfully murdered most of his psychiatrist, because of this look that he was giving me right now.

He seemed completely normal and caring, it was like he was that best friend that you could tell all your secrets to. He had trusting, honest eyes at this moment and I'd completely melted under his gaze.

"I have no intention of blackmailing you, my only reasoning behind doing all of this was to see if you could understand me. Everyone one before you has tried to explain how wrong it is to kill people, how bad it is to torture others, without ever having experienced what it's like firsthand.

But that wasn't all, my boys told me what you did to him, splayed on the floor covered in his blood, smiling as if you were in complete bliss. You don't know what that did for me, how it made me feel, imagining you, pressing that blade in your old man's chest over and over again.

My only regret is that I wasn't able to watch you do it myself. I would've taken you, right then, right there." He said, never blinking, and keeping his gaze on my own.

I looked at him, really looked at him, and for the first time, I think I saw him again for the first time.

I knew that I was attracted to him, I knew that I wanted him, but hearing him say this, it made me feel something else entirely new. I'd only ever been in love once in my life, and that was with Sam, and it didn't last long because I love was more friendly than it was romantic, at least back then it was.

So, with the exception of him, I'd never felt what it was like to be in love with someone, but at this moment that had all changed. Looking into his eyes, I knew that I was no longer falling in love with him, but I'd already fallen and hit the ground hard. He was everything I needed everything I wanted, he was all that I had now.

At that moment, I knew that this man was going to be mine, and I knew that I had to figure out how to make it so. But I couldn't let it be so obvious, not while he was watching me, not while he's seeing me cry, I had to be sure before he knew, I had to know that this wasn't a one-way street.

"You don't mean that. You're just trying to trick me. That's what you do, you trick people, you play with them until you're finished with them, then you throw them away." I respond.

"You think too much Doctor, you're always second-guessing what's right in front of you, which I'm sure works well with your studies, but not so good when applied to real-life situations.

You think I'm using you, you think I'm toying with you, tell me Doctor, is this toying with you," he said as he grabbed my hand and pressed it against his chest, the fabric covering it nearly paper thin so I could feel the flesh behind it, my breathing nearly stopped.

"You're not even gay, you don't even like—men," I stumbled, my mouth drying a bit.

"You'd think I'd let a man touch me like this if I didn't want him? You think I'd modify my sexual orientation just to manipulate you? Just to use you? It doesn't work that way, Doctor.

You of all people should know that who your body chooses to be attracted to, is no one's choice. Is it Doctor?" he asks as he trailed my hand down to his abs and let it rest there, circling my hand around each ab so I could feel just how firm his body was.

I could no longer formulate words because of how dry my mouth had become at being able to touch his body, even if it was through the fabric.

"Do you think that I'd let anyone touch me like this if I didn't want them to. You'd think I'd let them touch me here," he pulled my hand to his pecks again,

"Or here," he pulled my hands back to his abs,

"Or even here," he pulled my body closer with his other hand and directed my hand to his lower stomach.

He looked me in the eye the entire time and I could feel him lowering my hand, more and more until finally, it reached its prize. His dick was as rock hard and feeling it through the fabric, I knew that he was thick as well. My mouth went from the Sahara Desert to Niagara Falls in just a few seconds.

I closed my eyes in sheer ecstasy, it had been long since I'd been this close to a man, but even longer since I'd felt a man like this. It was more than just exciting, it was more than arousing, it was perfection. I'd wrapped my fingers around his member and held it, in sheer surprise and gratitude, I felt like if I didn't grip it, it would not have made it real.

"You know, Doctor, you are still my Valentine, I've already given you your present, but what about mine?" he asks seductively.

I could feel him use my hand to start to jerk him through his loose-fitting jumpsuit pants. I felt it and I knew instantly, that this wasn't going to be enough. I knew that I wanted more, so much more. I don't know what came over me at that moment, but in one swift motion, I ripped myself away from him, grabbed both of his wrists, and pushed him up against the wall adjacent to the door.

I found myself suddenly thankful that it was concrete I'd pushed him against because the guards couldn't hear it from the other side. He looked at me with a murderous rage overtaking his eyes for a second, I could tell that he did not enjoy being handled like this, he was an alpha male and being pushed around was not something he was used to.

Before he could react though, I released his arms and fell down to my knees in front of him. I could feel his eyes on me, as I grabbed the waistband of his pants and yanked them down. I was met with the most beautiful sight, his nearly eight-inch dick sprung out from his pants at full salute and I looked up to meet his gaze, still a mix of anger and now intrigue.

"I know what I just did was wrong, and I know I'll pay for it, but please, let me do this, let me suck you, let me please you, I want you more now than I ever did before, at least let me feel your cum slide down my throat before you kill me, please Mr. J," I plead.

I'd never called him that before, but it just seemed so fitting at this moment. Joker was too informal, Mr. Joker was too much, Mr. J just made me feel as though I was both respecting his dominance and showing my submission. I watched his gaze, he still had the murderous glint in his eye, but there was something else too, consideration.

At that, I laid a small kiss at the tip of his dick and was satisfied at the droplet of sticky precum that left a barely visible line connecting my lips to his dick. I licked my lips slowly to break the line and stared at him as I licked up the slit of his dick.

He regarded me for a moment and I could see him grinding his teeth in contemplation, but like all men in a situation like this, I could tell his primal urge to cum outweighed his killer instinct. He looked at me and smiled darkly, I took that as an answer and took him into my mouth as agonizingly slow as I possibly could.

I wanted him to feel the moist warmth of my mouth. I wanted him to feel his dick disappear into the cavern that was my mouth. Not once did I break eye contact, I wanted to see his expression change as he saw me take every last inch of his dick in my mouth until my nose was buried in his small bush of pubic hair. I could see him try to hold back his pleasure at seeing me deepthroat him without so much as a cough.

I mentally thanked Sam for teaching me how to suck a dick, he was the one who not only showed me how to do it but helped me realize that I had no gag reflex whatsoever.

I began slowly sucking him, savoring his taste like the most delicious meal that I'd ever tasted. His dick felt so good in my mouth and I wondered momentarily what it would feel like buried deep in my ass. I know I wouldn't push him to do it today though, I could see the surprise on his face at me pushing for more by sucking him.

I think he was only expecting to give me just a taste, but I was trying to get the full course meal. I started to bob my head up and down his dick and I felt him put his hand through my hair and start to move my head more vigorously.

All of a sudden, he pulled my head away and I whimpered at the sudden loss of his dick and in one swift motion he'd jerked my head around and forced the back of my head against the wall.

He'd lifted his leg and stepped around me so that he was facing me on the wall and shoved his dick back into my mouth. At that moment, I knew what he was doing, I'd had too much power with him against the wall, he wanted to reclaim that power so he surmised the only way to do that was to face fuck me.

He shoved his dick in and out of my mouth as roughly as he could, never stopping, never wavering. The feeling was absolute bliss, I didn't choke once at the rough intrusion and simply submitted to his every whim. He tried with all his might to make me choke, to make me gag, but every thrust, every time he tried to push deeper I just kept taking him.

I could see his frustration for a moment at not succeeding and smiled with his dick in my mouth. His frustration soon subsided because when I looked back at him I could tell that he was getting close, and my body rocked with excitement. I'd barely noticed that I was rock hard and my dick was straining so hard against my pants that it was painful.

But none of that mattered, he was about to give me what I needed, and it was all going to be worth it. I looked at his face, so twisted in ecstasy and hear his small grunts that let me know that it wouldn't be long before he released. I lifted my hand and started to play with his balls, rubbing and toying with them, for a second I considered touching his ass. 

I knew that it would be crossing a line that I knew he wouldn't be ready for so I just focused on his balls and used the saliva that had leaked down from my mouth to massage his balls as best as I could.

He was grunting a little more and I knew it we were getting even closer to my prize, he threw his head back and I felt his dick pulse in my mouth and the hot streams of semen spraying inside my mouth. The feeling was glorious, usually, the taste of cum wasn't all that great for me, but at this moment, feeling him release in my mouth, the salty bitter taste could not have tasted more delicious.

He'd released about six times, each pulse shooting more of his delicious semen down my throat, I swallowed every last drop of it without hesitation and kept sucking him over and over until I downed every last drop. I heard his breathing slow down a little and his dick softened in my mouth.

I let him slide out of my mouth, but not before I used my hand to grip his dick and used my thumb to slide out any remaining semen that couldn't make out when he released in my mouth.

He looked at me again, eyes still glazed over in afterglow and grabbed me by the throat. He pulled me up to face him and for a few moments I thought he was going to strangle me right there, but he just smiled at me. That same dark smile he used the first time he saw me, and he used his free hand to trail his hand down my shirt.

He looked down at my straining member through my slacks and smiled again as he made eye contact with me. He finally put his hand on my dick and gripped it much like I did when he let me touch him, and unzipped my pants. My seven-inch dick sprung free and he lifted the palm of his hand to my mouth.

Immediately, I licked it up and down, getting it as moist as I possibly could while I strained against his grip on my neck. Once his hand was sufficiently wet enough, he grabbed my dick and started to jerk me off, it only took a few strokes before I was undone. I came violently and aggressively on his palm.

At just the right moment he let go of my neck and covered my mouth as if sensing that I was going to be too loud and he didn't want the guards to hear.

He was right because the strained sound I made through his hand was nearly loud enough to get us both caught. He gathered my cum that was on his knuckles and brought that hand to my mouth.

He took the hand covering my mouth and wrapped it around my neck again as smeared my own cum on my lips. I lapped it up like a kitten to milk and sucked each of his fingers clean of my fluids.

He let me go and pulled his pants up, and I just laid back against the wall in total bliss. Soon, I'd gathered the strength the zip up my pants and readjust myself and I watched him as he put on his straight jacket again.

He looked at me as if nothing had happened, the lust in his eyes dissipated, the anger satiated, and his smile returned.

"You are quite the people pleaser aren't you Doctor?" he said comically.

I sat back down in my chair, not answering his comment. I was still glowing after experiencing the best orgasm of my entire life. I had no idea if I'd ever get the chance to feel it again, but I knew that every piece of me, every part of my being wanted to do nothing but please him.

In that instance, I got lucky that his hormones and his arousal had gotten the better of him, next time, I want it to be because he wants it to happen, not because he just allowed it to.

"Mr. J," I said dejectedly, he looks at me and cocks his head to the side in question,

"I want you, more than I've wanted anyone or anything, that, what we just did, I don't want that to be the last time we do something like that to each other. I want you, I want to be yours, please Mr. J, let me be yours," I beg.

He looks at me as if considering my words, and he begins,

"You think you can handle belonging to me, Doctor? I'm not just any man, not just any person, I need more than just you saying you want me, I need you to show me," he states simply.

"What are you talking about? I have shown you that I want you, I killed my father for you, I even sucked your dick with the risk of anyone walking in catching us, I risked everything for you, what more can I do to show you that I—" I ramble.

"For me?!" he nearly yells,

"That wasn't for me. You did that for yourself, you killed your father because he deserved it, you sucked my dick because you wanted to, how did you put it, _feel my cum slide down your throat_ _._ I merely opened the doors for you, but for you to sit there and say you did that for me, that's a load of bullshit.

If you want to prove that you want me, prove that you need me, you're going to have to do much better than that."

I looked at him, prepared to say something, prepared to give some sort of retort, but I didn't have one. He was right, I killed my father out of hatred, I sucked his dick because I wanted him, but not once did I make it clear that I was doing it for him.

I had to prove to him that I was his, I had to show him how much he meant to me.

"How?" I ask quietly.

"What?" he responds, a touch of mock confusion, I knew he wanted me to say it.

"How do I show you that I want you?"

"Simple, kill someone," he states simply, pausing for dramatic effect no doubt.

"I have killed some—" I started.

"Your father doesn't count Doctor, no, you need to kill someone else, someone who doesn't deserve it, someone innocent, then and only then will I believe that you want me," he stated with the emphasis on _want me_ as if he didn't believe me.

"I don't understand, you already said that you knew I wanted you last time, why do I have to prove it again?" I asked.

"You misunderstood what I meant, I knew you wanted me physically, but not that you wanted me beyond that. If you want me, Doctor, all of me, you're going to have to do way more than killing dear old dad."

I regarded his words for a moment before I responded.

"You can't make me do that Mr. J, kill an innocent? My dad was different, he ruined my life, was responsible for my mother's death, he deserved to die. But to ask me to kill someone who did nothing to me? I—I don't know if I can do that."

"I'm not making you do anything Doctor, this is all your choice, all your decision, anything you do after we talk is entirely up to you. All that I am offering you is what you asked.

You want to prove that you want me beyond just my body, this is the price of having that. If you can't pay it, don't come back." He leaned over the table a little before continuing,

"And if you do come back without having done what I asked, I'll make sure to follow through with what I was about to do when you pushed me against that wall. Just that simple."

I looked at him and lowered my eyes, and I tried to contemplate what he was asking me to do.

"If—If I did do what you asked me to, how would you even know that—that I had done it?" I asked stumbling over my words a little, I couldn't believe I was actually even considering this.

"It's simple really, call my boys, the number is on that little note they left you. They won't be waiting like they were last time, so you'll have to make sure they come to you.

Don't want the Gotham city police department to get a hold of you red-handed now would we," he says as he started to laugh at his own joke,

"Get it _red_ -handed?" He laughs, even more, his manic chuckle filling the room with a general uneasiness.

"Oh and make sure that you leave me a little message to, a way to make sure I know that you did this just for me," he adds with a grin.

"I can't do that, I won't do that, you're asking too much, that's—that's not me."

Even though I wanted to prove my desire, prove that I wanted him, this was crossing a new line. I felt nothing murdering my father because he had it coming, but killing an innocent person, that was something entirely different. I'd dreamt of killing horrible people before, like those assholes at the front desk, or the bullies I'd had in school, but that was different, those people were just evil individuals.

I'd most likely have no qualms about killing them, much like I had none when I killed my father, but an innocent person. This would be someone who did nothing to me, didn't beat me, didn't abuse me, didn't make fun of me, just a regular average person with a family and friends whose life I would have to take in order to prove to him how much I needed him.

I could not do that. I would not do that. No matter how much I want him, I know that I'm not capable of that kind of murder. If I was a full-fledged murderer, I would at least kill people who deserved it, but what he was asking, this was just evil.

I thought back to when Sam told me he killed his sister, I may have felt that it was right for him to get back at his parents, but part of me still couldn't understand how he could kill a baby? How he could kill an innocent baby that had done nothing to him, granted she did change his parents, but that wasn't her fault.

I looked at him and rose from my seat, and walked to the door, I wasn't going to even consider this, no matter how much it killed me to walk away from him, I know that this was just going too far.

"Doctor, remember, you walk out of that door, you don't come back unless you've done it. But before you go," he walked up behind me and pushed me against the door.

His dick was hard again, and I felt him press it against my ass, his hard member nestled between my cheeks, and I silently thanked myself for wearing more loosely fitted slacks.

"This is what you want, isn't it?" he asks, as he pushes himself as close as he could to me. I silently cursed the fact that the fabric was separating me from feeling him between my actual flesh.

"You want me inside you, I can give you that Doctor, and so much more, your prize, your reward, is this, and...me. All of me."

I swallowed deeply and looked out the square window cut of thankful that the guards were not able to hear anything beyond the door.

"Think about it Doctor, all it takes is one little life, and you and I can be together, you'd like that wouldn't you? You'd like being mine? I can make that happen, but I just need some reassurance that you truly want this," he whispered in my ear before he went back to his seat.

I regarded his words as I knocked on the door for the guards to let me out. As the door shut behind me, I met his eyes again and I saw him wink at me. This was not who I was. I may have been lonely, I may have been desperate, but I wasn't a cold-blooded murderer. I wasn't going to let him make me into a monster, I couldn't, even if it meant I'd be alone.

Even if it meant that I would lose him too. But a dark thought did pass through my head, one that I tried to ignore, one that sneaked its way into the forefront of my mind, one that I quickly suppressed the moment I stepped onto the elevator.

_It's just one person. They're bound to die someday, in this city it will probably be violently to, at least this way their death will mean something._

________________________________________________________________________________ 

"Is everything going according to plan," the Joker asked the blonde girl sitting on the side on the edge of the single bed in his cell.

"Yes sir, everyone on the outside knows what they are supposed to do when the time comes. Are you sure you can count on him to do it?" she asks.

"He's already killed someone before, and he came back, that shows me that he enjoyed it. You don't just kill someone and bounce back like that, and if you do, it's highly likely you'll do it again.

He liked killing his father, which means he'd be very likely to enjoy killing someone else to, especially if he thinks, I'll be with him if he does." He responds.

He had grown to become more annoyed at the blonde girl today for some reason. After he'd had his session with the psychiatrist he felt himself change, felt himself want different things, and more importantly, he started feeling something.

It wasn't something that he'd completely understood, nor did he even know what the feeling was, but he knew it had to do with the doctor. He'd originally planned just to let the good doctor jerk him off, just to let him feel his manhood, but he pushed him against the wall and had other plans.

At that moment, the Joker completely forgot about the plan, forgot about what he was supposed to do, and was about to kill the man that stood before him. No man every manhandled him that way before, and it was not appreciated, just as he was about to kill him though he saw the regret in the man's eyes.

He saw that he wanted more than the Joker was willing to allow. He felt the man pull his pants down and he knew that the only thing that made him do that was his raw desire for him and his body. It was something the Joker hadn't felt in a very long time.

Sure, he fucks the blonde girl, she enjoys him and he enjoys her. Sure he's fucked dozens of women in his life and reveled in their ecstasy filled screams. However, no one ever looked at him like that before. Women have desired him, hell, they've downright begged for it, but this man didn't just beg he needed it.

He needed to please him, it was like if he didn't please him right then and there he would have just died. That was what saved his life at that moment, that was what kept him alive. He wanted the Joker more than breathing at that moment, and he couldn't help but indulge him.

He allowed the man to suck him and when he'd taken him in his mouth, he was in absolute bliss. He'd tried to write it off as him just being turned on by the man's desperation, but he couldn't deny that the way the man sucked him, the way he engulfed his entire cock in his mouth, it made him go wild.

He soon realized that the man had gotten too much power in the situation, so the only way to take it back was to fuck his face, show him who was in charge. To his surprise he was able to keep up, he'd done this a few times before to girls, and they'd always gag and whine, which always brought a smile to his face.

But this man, he just sat there and took it, he let him fuck his mouth as hard and as rough as he could. The man had a throat of steel, and the Joker couldn't help but smile at the memory of seeing the man stare at him as he ruthlessly fucked his face.

For a moment, he was actually frustrated at how talented this man was, he was annoyed that he was unable to make him choke on his dick but that soon dissolved when he felt his body rock in orgasm. He hadn't come that much and that hard in years, it was like he was a teenage boy who'd just discovered masturbation.

The orgasm rocked him like none he has ever experienced before and the man had swallowed every drop of his seed. He couldn't believe how much the man had swallowed and how he kept sucking his dick even after it went limp. He squeezed every drop of cum out of him as he could and the Joker was in awe, even though he didn't show it.

He surprised himself when he lifted the man and started to jerk him off. He'd never in his life touched a man that way before, but he wanted to reassert his power in the situation. It wasn't long before he saw the man convulse in front of his seed spraying across the Joker's fingers. He watched the man lap up his own seed from his hands and was so impressed with just how much of an effect he had on this man.

He looked at the blonde woman in front of him and looked at her curves, and his dick jumped a little at the sight. He was still straight, that much he knew for a fact, but something about this man endeared him, something about his desperation enticed him, and as much as he wanted to deny it, when he told the man about how he wanted to take him, it was not a lie.

Seeing the boy covered in blood, a dark smile on his face at the satisfaction of his first kill, it was enough to make him hard all over again. Something about seeing another person give into their true nature always made him aroused and this was the first time it was caused by a man giving in.

"Come here," he said and the woman did as she was told and he started to make out with her. He kissed her and started to caress her body as he slid his hands down her shirt and into her panties. He felt her wetness and started to caress her pussy as she moaned beneath him.

"You won't have to worry you're pretty little head about this for much longer, he's going to follow through, I know he will, and when he does, he'll be right back ready to do whatever I tell him to.

That's what desire does to people Doctor, it makes them do such stupid things, isn't that right?" he asks as he starts to slide his pants down and slip into her tight, wet walls. She was at a loss for words and simply nodded into his neck as he began his thrusts.

He cursed while he thrust into her, he loved the feel of a woman's pussy, how it opened up beneath him and encased his dick like a warm blanket. Although this time it felt a little less exciting, a little less fulfilling, something was wrong. Each time he thrust into her, it just felt more and more unsatisfying.

For a moment he'd wondered if he'd gotten bored with her, which did happen from time to time. He'd get bored of the same pussy, and move onto the next, but this time there was no moving on, he had to keep the woman under his thrall so there was no bouncing from girl to girl when you're in Arkham.

But this time it was more than just not wanting the same pussy, it was like he was bored with it all together, he'd began to fuck her harder at the notion and he could feel himself become less aroused. That was until he'd pictured the other Doctor, Hartley, he remembered what if felt like having his dick pressed between the man's ass cheeks.

Even through the fabric, he felt the warmth of the man's ass, the tight hole he was sure hid behind the clothing. At that notion, his arousal had returned and he was fucking the blonde beneath him with a new fruition. His arousal renewed he continued picturing what it would be like to enter the man, to feel the tight walls give into him as he pushed himself inside him.

He pictured the man's face twisted in desperation, in need, and in ecstasy and that sent him over the edge. He was cumming in the woman, again and again, thankful that his 'accident' made his semen completely infertile.

He collapsed on the woman again and started to curse himself inwardly at the fact that he'd imagined fucking a man while he fucked a girl. He knew this couldn't go on much longer, this man was confusing him too much, he had to get rid of him as soon as possible.

Maybe he'd get lucky and the man would not kill someone else, then he'd have a reason to get rid of him, not that he needed one, but he always loved to kill someone with a little flair. But what if he did, what if he wanted him that much he'd give up his humanity just to be with him, that was something that still nagged at him in the back of his mind.

It didn't matter, the Joker was straight, he liked pussy, he liked women, this man was just some nuisance that was distracting him. Once he'd destroys him, once he gets rid of him, he'll be fine, just a few more days and the man will be out of his life forever.

He looked at the girl beneath him, who was still breathing heavily from her orgasm. He looked at her and decided that he would keep her around. She may have been annoying, but the pussy was good, and he'd liked the idea of pushing her over the edge. He needed her to kill for him, like Hartley will, he needed to see her so desperate for him that she'd do anything for him.

But her will was just a little harder to break than Hartley's, she had more fight more drive in her. Once he broke her, once he got her to kill for him, he'd finally have her. Even though that idea left him feeling somewhat excited, he couldn't ignore the nagging thought in the back of his mind.

He might be able to break her, hell, he might even be able to get her to depend on him, but he doesn't think that anyone can ever surpass how damaged Hartley was. As much as he wants to get rid of him for the confusion that he brings in his mind, he can't help but feel some kind of connection to the man.

He was so desperate for him, so broken for him, he needed him so desperately and it was something that made him doubt just how much he wanted to kill the man. He'd broken people before, but not like this, this man was a whole new shade of damaged that he hadn't seen in a very long time.

A kind of damaged that could be useful to him moving forward. He pushed the thought aside, this is not what he wanted, the man was not what he wanted.

 _Stick to the plan, Joker, you're not a fag_ , he thought to himself as he started to fuck the girl again, and she writhed in pleasure beneath him. Those nasty little thoughts starting to dissipate with every thrust. This is who he was, and no one was going to change that.


	13. Chapter 13

It was raining while I was on my way home and I had no umbrella to my name so it was a battle trying to get through to my house without getting completely soaked. I thought that the weather was fitting with the mood that I was in. The rest of the day after my session with the Joker went by as if time was moving at a crawl.

I was still somewhat in shock of what he'd asked me to do for him, and what I had done to him. It had been so long since I'd been with someone in that way, but the fact that he was my patient made things that much more confusing. Deep down I am sure that the reason I'm feeling all these strange feelings is probably due to misplaced feelings that I was having toward Sam.

The things that he'd said to me, the way he looked at me, he hated me. I couldn't handle him being that angry with me so I allowed myself to give in to my attraction to the Joker.

All of this was the practical answer, a simple explanation, although I knew this was completely false. I know deep down that what I did with him had nothing to do with misplaced emotions or repressed sexual desires. It was him. Every session with him, every move he's made, his personality, even his darkness, all of it makes me feel as if I'm somehow connected to him.

The first moment I met him I knew this was bound to happen, but I just kept brushing it off as a simple workplace crush or just something that will go away as time went on, but that wasn't the case. It wasn't until I killed my father, it wasn't until I felt that blade drag across his skin the first time that I realized how much I needed this man in my life.

He'd done this for me, he'd brought my father to me as a present for me, and he even helped me get rid of the body. He knew I would kill him, and he knew that I would be afraid, yet he still kept me grounded, still showed me he cared.

At first, I believed that this was all a ploy just to toy with my emotions, to blackmail me so that he'd have me by the balls, but then, then he hugged me. This sociopath, this supposedly evil man who has no regard or understanding of human emotion hugged me.

He saw my pain, he saw my frustration, and instead of ignoring it, he comforted me. Being wrapped in his protective arms, his reassuring embrace, it felt as if I belonged there. It was as if this was what my body had been craving for years, and he'd finally given it to me. Satisfied my desperate hunger for affection.

Sucking his dick filled me with joy and excitement, my body craved to pleasure him. But that was nothing compared to when he touched me, his touch was hesitant at first but once he'd started there was no stopping him. He'd jerked me off and I was in heaven, if he could do that with his hands, there's no telling what he could do with that dick of his.

I wanted more of what he gave me, I wanted more touch, more feeling, I wanted him. His price, however, was the only thing holding me back. Killing my father was one thing, he'd had it coming, but killing someone innocent, that's something entirely different.

Killing an innocent meant that there was no coming back for me, there was no forgiveness, there was no undoing it. At least with my father, I could blame my violence on the years of abuse I endured, but killing an innocent person that was a new line that I don't think I am ready to cross. 

I know I don't want to lose the Joker, not after how he's made me feel, not after I lost my best friend, the Joker was all I had left. Without him, I have no one else, I would be alone, and I don't think I can handle being alone anymore, not after finally knowing what it's like to not be. Sam was right about one thing, I needed someone, anyone to help me feel like I mattered.

When I left him, I dove into my studies and even though I tried making friends, I never did. I would always end up studying alone, and never truly having all the fun that everyone talks about having in college. I spent the rest of my time there until now completely alone, so when I saw Sam going through what he was going through, I couldn't help but jump on the chance to rekindle the friendship that I snuffed out.

He'd seen right through it though, and completely renounces our friendship, so I was lost. At least until I found the Joker, and he'd reminded me of what if felt like to have someone care about me, or even at the very least pay attention to me.

Even if he didn't care I about me, even if he didn't want me, he at least paid attention to me, and sometimes that's all that a person needs, to feel like they matter to somebody. But now I was at risk of losing the only person who thinks I matter, just because I don't want to hurt an innocent person. I racked my brain with these thoughts as I finally made it to my apartment door in this fierce rainfall.

Before I could get my key in the lock, I heard a whimper, someone whimpering around me, at first I was just planning on ignoring it and just getting inside my house. This was that person's problem, not mine.

But the psychiatrist side of my personality, the very subtle part that I thought went away the moment I killed my father, decided to make an appearance and begrudgingly I looked around to find where the whimper was coming from.

"Hello, is anyone there," I yelled out, over the rain.

The whimper grew a little louder and I realized that it was coming from the right of me. I quickly ran over and was met with a sad sight. A woman, in nothing but a blue blouse and jeans laying on the concrete, from the red smears on her face I could tell that she was bleeding badly.

I leaned down to hoist her up. She looked at briefly, registering the fact that I was stranger, and immediately felt her recoil.

"Look, I don't have time for this, I'm trying to help you out here. If you want to stay out here that's your choice, it just looks like you're not doing too well, so if you want I can take you to my apartment right over there, and I can get you fixed up a little okay," I reason.

She regards me for a second as if a mental debate about whether or not she should trust me, although I can tell by her present condition, that she wasn't about to turn me down.

She looked at me and started to help me hoist her up from the ground and she limped with me over to the apartment. I did my best to cover my both our heads with my lab coat, I tried my best to use my one free hand to dig my key out of my pocket and finally I got it out and fumbled a few times before finally turning the lock and opening the door.

She limped inside with me and leaned against the doorframe as I shut the door behind her. I quickly pulled the one chair I had at my desk table out and lead her over to it so she could sit down. I walked to my bathroom and pulled out the last four towels I had and walked back to the front.

I started to dry myself off and she patted herself dry as best she could and even though I tried to help her I knew that she wouldn't want some strange man touching her, even if it was just to dry her off.

"Sorry about the whole coat thing, don't really own an umbrella, funny how you don't think about buying one until it's too late," I say jokingly, she doesn't respond but just continues to dry herself.

It wasn't long before we were both damp dry and I pulled out one of my space heaters from my storage closet and brought it up to her so she could get warm. Even though I was cold too, I knew that from how much she was shivering that she'd been out in the rain a lot longer than I was. I looked at her face, short of the swollen eye and busted lip I could tell that she was probably a really beautiful woman.

She had full brown hair that if it wasn't for the rain would probably be full of volume, an oval face with brown eyes, and faint laugh lines on either side of her mouth. She was white but with a medium tan that could possibly bring her ethnicity up for debate often.

Her figure was slim with a nice frame, from it I could tell that she was some type of fitness instructor or yoga teacher. From all accounts she was a beautiful young woman, I wondered for a moment what kind of monster would bang her up like this.

As she continued to pat herself dry I could tell that she was wincing the farther down her leg she went and I could see the droplets of blood that was coming from her pant leg. I lean closer and reach my hand out to try and inspect it and I see her recoil again, I immediately know what she is thinking.

"Trust me, if I wanted to do something to you, I would have done it as soon as I closed the door behind us, besides, your plumbing is wrong anyways," I say to her, she cocks her head a little and I can tell she's confused.

"I'm gay," I clarify.

I usually don't tell people that as soon as I meet them, but I had to make this woman comfortable or she wouldn't let me help her. She looks at me and nods, and I pull up part of her pant leg, and I see her wince a little. I can barely see the end of the wound but I can tell that something is either sprained or broken.

I looked to the side of her calf and I see that parts of it are torn and I can see the bloodied flesh underneath. I walk back to my bathroom and get the first aid kit I tucked underneath my sink and head back to her. I open it up and pull out the extra pair of scissors that I had tucked away in it, just in case.

I saw her recoil again and was slightly annoyed at her consistently anxious state, but I resolved that this was because she was probably traumatized by whatever happened to her so I calmly reassured her.

"I'm just going to cut your pants open so I can clean the wound, I can't get to it because your jeans are too tight, so I either cut it open or you take the pants, it's up to you, but we have to clean it before it gets infected."

She nods again and watches my every move, I take the scissors and start at the bottom of her pant leg and start to cut upwards slowly. Once I was high enough I look at her.

"I have to pull the jean of your calf, I'm going to try and do this as slowly as I can, but it's going to hurt because some of the jean is stuck to your wound," I say.

Narrating every single thing I do so she doesn't get too antsy, she nods quickly and turns her head to the side and I begin pulling of the jean. Thankfully it was still moist from the rain so it slid off a little easier, but it still dried a little, and I could tell from her ragged breathing that she was straining as hard as she could not to cry out.

Finally, the whole pant leg was off an hanging off the back of her leg looking much like bell bottoms. I assessed the wound, thankfully it wasn't too deep, but deep enough to cause her to limp the way she did. From the way it looked, and the skid marks I saw on her elbows, I could tell that it was probably from being throw out onto the harsh concrete.

"This going to sting, and it's going to hurt, but I have to clean it," I say to her as I pour a little alcohol into a gauze pad and started to lightly pat the wounded area.

I could hear her take in a sharp breath through her clinched teeth and I was sure that she was trying her so hard not to cry out. I felt so bad for the young woman, I could tell that she was hurting, not just physically, but emotionally as well. I knew that expression she made, I knew that feeling she had, I knew it well.

It was the same look I had the first time my father hit me, that initial shock and betrayal mixed with guilt. It's like you know deep down that it wasn't your fault that it happened, but you couldn't bring yourself to stop thinking that it happened because of something you did.

I knew that this wasn't just some random girl who was beaten up by some random people, no, she was someone who had been hurt, someone who'd been abused, someone like me. I finished cleaning her dabbing her with the alcohol cover gauze and started to put some peroxide in another and dabbed away again.

I saw the white bubbles indicating that it was cleaning the wound and after they faded and I wiped it off one last time. I pulled out a few more gauze pads and squeezed out triple antibiotic ointment onto it and spread it on the pad as I placed the large squares on her wound. I pulled out my surgical tape and secured the bandage.

"There, you go, all fixed up, well at least that part anyway, I have some bandages for your elbows, I can't do anything about the swollen eye, but get you some ice, and as far as your lip goes I can try and—"

"Why are you doing this?" she croaks out quietly, I could tell the rasp in her voice was from heavy crying.

"What?" I asked confused at her question.

"You don't even know me, and you're what coming to my rescue, why, what do you want?" she asks bitterly,

"I don't have any money or anything to offer you so...why?"

"Because, I know what's it like to hurt by someone you trusted," I respond quietly as I lift her first elbow to clean it and place a bandage on it.

"I never said—" she starts.

"You didn't have to, I could see it your eyes the moment we walked through that door, you were broken, and not because of what happened to you, but because of who did it."

She looks me in the eye, and I can see the tears start to swell in her eyes, and I knew I was right. She tries her best to hold them back, but it was no use they'd already started to fall. She used her free hand to wipe the tears away, but she was still crying. I finished the first arm and moved on to the other.

"How long has it been happening?" I ask her, trying to keep her distracted from the sting of the alcohol pad I was using to clean the wound on her elbow.

"It just started today, I forgot to tell him that I was going out with my friends, and we were going to be out late because we were celebrating Kristie's engagement.

When I got home, he was furious, I'd never seen him that angry before. He's always had anger problems, he'd scream at me, he'd demean sometimes when it was really bad, but he—he never hit me. Not like today.

He told me that I was a whore, and that I was probably out there fucking some other man, and no matter how many times I told him I wasn't he didn't believe me. He just kept hitting me, until he was done. Then he threw out of the apartment and locked the door so I couldn't get back in and left.

He left me there on the ground alone, I tried to get back up but my leg it just hurt too much. I just—I couldn't do anything. I felt like—I felt powerless." She admitted, barely getting the words out in between sobs.

"It's not your fault, do you hear me," I say to her looking her directly in her eyes,

"You did nothing wrong."

She nods her head and continues to sob before I knew it I was wrapping my arms around her and surprisingly she returned my embrace. She cried into my shoulder and I felt her body collapse into my own. It was like she was letting go of all of the pain and betrayal she'd felt all day come crashing down and she allowed me to catch her.

Her crying was beginning to subside and I could feel her start to calm a little before she pulled away. She wiped her eyes on her still damp sleeve and looked at me.

"I don't even know you, and I'm sitting here telling you all about my life, guess I have hit rock bottom haven't I," she said laughing bitterly.

"Not really, you just got knocked off your feet a little," I said warmly,

"But you can still get back up, still change all of this, let's start with names, I'm Hartley, Hartley Quinzel," I say as I take her hand to shake it lightly, she laughs again, this time a little more jovial.

"Lisa Brandon, look, thank you for all your help, but you really didn't have to—"

"Yes, I did. You needed help, and I help people. That's my job, and I think you helped remind me of who I am," I respond.

And honestly she did, the whole time I was helping clean and dress her wounds I'd remembered why I got into psychology in the first place. It was to help heal people, not to destroy them. That's what the Joker wanted me to do.

No matter how much he excited me, hurting people, especially innocent people, was not something I was on board with doing. Seeing this woman so vulnerable and in need of a friend reminded me that I'm still human, I'm not the monster that I thought I was becoming.

"What, are you like a doctor or something," she asks, I nearly forgot she was there at the sudden shift in my thoughts, I laugh a little and respond.

"Yes and no. I'm a doctor of the mind, not the body, I'm a psychiatrist."

"A shrink, just my luck huh, you must think I'm stupid for not seeing the signs of an abusive husband from the get-go. I mean it's not like all relationships don't have their ups and downs, it's just we were on the downside a lot more than others.

I thought it was normal to have relationship problems, and when we got married, I thought things would get better, clearly, I was wrong," she takes one of the alcohol covered gauzes in my hand and dabs it lightly on her swollen lip. She winces a little at the pain.

"Listen, Lisa, you don't have to explain yourself to me. I'm not here to psychoanalyze you, I'm just a person who's trying to help you," I say taking another gauze and pouring some of the water from the water bottle I keep in the safety kit to dab it over her eye. She smiles bitterly at me.

"You know we ran away together," she remarks,

"He was my high school sweetheart, we'd been dating for all four years, and when I was eighteen we ran to the courthouse and got hitched. My mom begged me not to, begged me to go to college first, but my mind was already set, Mark and I were too in love to wait.

We lived in LA for about four more years, we were going to get big, he was going to become a real estate agent, and I was going to follow my passion to be a yoga instructor. But life hit us. It hit us hard. See what people don't tell you when you become a full-fledged adult is that shit is expensive.

It's expensive to eat, drink, sleep, hell you even have to pay to be sick. Everything was expensive, and pretty soon our dreams started to fade with the crushing reality of bills. My waitressing gig on got us by, and his job as a dishwasher wasn't really panning out well when the first of the month came around.

So, we had to pick up and leave, the only thing we owned was a black Chevy Impala, so we just packed up and came to the nearest city that had the lowest cost of living, Gotham. Got us an apartment here and we were going to work our way out of here."

I sat there and listened to her intently, this is obviously something that had been weighing on her for some time, the moment I said I was a psychiatrist she immediately trusted me. If I can't help the Joker or Sam, maybe this I could help her. She continued.

"But Mark started getting bitter all of a sudden, he became more aggressive more angry, and less interested in trying to do better. He directed most of that anger towards me, and granted I took it because that's what you do when you love someone.

I knew that he was angry more at himself than at me, so I was just waiting for him to realize that it was the circumstance, not me that he was truly angry with, but that never happened. He just became more hateful, more jealous, but anytime he went too far, he'd always bring me roses and gifts, even if it was his last little bit of money.

He'd always apologize. And he was so sweet to me after, and I knew he didn't mean it, but part of me...part me knew it would get worse and I just didn't want to believe it. I could just see myself losing my husband, I was losing the man I fell in love with, and tonight—tonight I lost him completely." She finished she started to cry again, she turned away from me and I knew that she didn't want to be comforted, at least not by a hug.

"Listen, you can't let him get away with this, you have to go to the police, tell them what happened, and—"

"Then what, they'll send him to jail," she cuts me off.

"Well that's the idea, isn't it. To keep him from hurting you," I reason.

"No. I can't do that, I won't. I can't lose him, not now, especially not now," she says cryptically.

"That's his hold on you talking, he's manipulating you can't you see that he did of this to make you his. That's why he wanted you to marry him so quickly, why he moved you away from your mom, why he gave you all those gifts after he hurt you.

He was working you up to what he needed you to be, vulnerable. He wants you solely dependent on him so that you can't ever leave him, no matter how bad it gets, and trust me, it will get worse, I know." I plead with her,

"You need to leave him now, you need to file a report, you need to let him go, because the if you let him get away with it now, he will never stop."

"Don't you think I know that? It's not about us, it's about—" she stops herself before she finishes.

"What's it about? Tell me, what could be worth staying in a relationship with, what could be worth losing yourself to him, what could be worth possibly losing your life to him?" I asked, genuinely wanting to know the answer.

"Love." She says simply.

"This," I say touching her wounded leg, she winces a little,

"This isn't what love looks like. People who love don't do this to you."

Even as I say it to her I know that I was lying. The father who was supposed to love me, beat me every single day of it, even before he knew I was gay. The friend who was supposed to love me no matter what told me that I meant nothing to him. The mother who claimed to love me never packed us up and left my father even after the abuse got so bad it caused me physical harm.

I was sitting here telling her what love was supposed to be and the truth was, I didn't even know anymore. Who says that what she has with her husband isn't love, who says what I have experienced in my life was some twisted form of love that I couldn't understand?

Who says that it's not possible to fall in love with someone who is supposedly incapable of it? It was like everything was being revealed to me in this one moment.

I've been so wrapped up in what I thought love was supposed to be, or what society teaches us that love is supposed to feel like, that I completely ignored the fact that I've had it most of my life. Sure, my father beat me, but he loved doing it, which means in some ways he did love me.

Sure, I may have killed him, but I really loved doing that. Sure, Sam may pretend to hate me, may say harsh words, may even hurt my feelings, but he loved doing it because he was getting his revenge. Even when dealing with the Joker, he may be manipulating me, he may be using me, but right now, I'm what he's thinking about, he's focused on me.

He loves to manipulate people, so that means that he may love me too. All this became so starkly clear, and I was just about to tell her that I was wrong, but then she said something, something that changed my entire disposition.

"I wasn't talking about him, I was talking about our—I was talking about our child," she says quietly, as she lowers her head,

"I'm pregnant."

I looked at her, more accurately, I looked through her. I felt my entire being drop, my soul, my essence, everything took a screeching halt. It was as if those words were a punch to the stomach, and I was just sinking into it.

I didn't know how to react, I didn't know what to say, but I knew that this changed everything. I looked down at her stomach, she was didn't look pregnant yet, so I knew that she could have only been a few weeks, but I was silent. She looked up finally and continued,

"I found out a few weeks ago, I didn't know how to tell him, I was waiting for the right time to do it. Ironically I was going to do it tonight since I was in such a good mood coming home, but you see how that worked out. I didn't even get halfway in the door before he was on me."

Even though I was hearing her words, it was like I was in one of those out of body experience movies where you can only hear what's going on but you couldn't respond. All that I could hear in my mind, all that was coursing through me were those two little words,

 _I'm pregnant_.

"Look I know that he's troubled, I know that this wasn't the last time, but I have to make it work. I have to make it work because if I don't we won't be a family. I know he doesn't mean it, not deep down. I know he's just angry. I know he's just having a bad day.

But you couldn't possibly understand. When you become a mother you have to make sacrifices for the well being of your child. I can't take care of this kid by myself, I need him, without him, I'm just a single mother raising a fatherless child. No. I'm not going to do that. We'll make it work I know we can. I just have to be more careful, that's all," she continued, nodding.

She was trying to convince herself more than me that it will all be okay, but I am still in shock. I looked at the window in my apartment and listened, I knew that the rain was very loud, so loud that it would drown out any noise. If I yelled right now, I knew that I wouldn't be heard.

I remembered that the parking lot was empty when I walked into my apartment. There weren't many people in my complex being that it was a really bad neighborhood so, with the exception of me, her, and about four other tenants, we were all that lived here. I turned back to face her and she continued.

"Thanks for all your help, do you mind if I stay here till the rain lets up a bit, its really coming down out there. I don't think I'd make it to the front office now that's its gotten so bad, you might have fixed me up but it still sort of hurts to put pressure on my leg, even when I'm sitting down," she tries and succeeds to stand on one leg and limps over to the window.

She pulls the curtain open to look at the rain. The lightning and rolls of thunder getting closer and closer together, which meant that the storm was getting closer to us.

"It's really coming down, hopefully, it will die down before Mark gets home, he's probably on his way back now, he wouldn't just leave me here in rain like this, not in the condition I was in, he may be upset, but he would come back, I just know he would." She continues. 

At this point the lights in my apartment started to flicker and not soon after flicked off completely.

"Damn, the storm must have knocked the power out too, looks like it knocked off this whole block, my kitchen light was on and it went out too. God, I hope he comes back soon, if not I'll have to go to the front office to get the key.

Wait, what will I do if they ask questions? You think that they'll believe me if I told them I was mugged. Maybe they'd call the cops, no, I should just wait for Mark, he'll tell me what I should do." She says absently.

I stand up gripping what's in my right hand with a death grip so tight I could make a diamond if I had coal in my hand. I walk towards her as she continues.

"Look, I know you don't agree with my decision, that's why you're aren't saying anything, isn't it. I know you think I'm crazy, maybe I am, maybe it's a stupid decision to go back to him.

But I love this baby, I love my husband, and I love my family. And right now, I can't afford to lose him, not when we're finally going to be a family. Once we have this baby, things will get better, he'll get better, it has to."

I walk up to her slowly, trying with all my might to block out those to words, but failing. My grip is tightening so much so on what's in my hand that I can feel it digging into my skin quite painfully, but all that pain was blocked out by those two words,

 _I'm pregnant_.

It was like my body was on autopilot and I was just sitting back in my mind watching events unfold.

"You know I always wanted kids. I really hope it's a boy you know, I wanted to name him Ben. Ben Brandon. But if it's a girl I'd be just as happy, probably name her Sarah after my mom. We'll be happy, I know we will."

The lighting and thunder had grown to be nearly indistinguishable from each other and I knew the storm was right above us. I knew that it was on us.

I still walked, ever slowly, nearly right behind her, and waited. I saw the tell-tale sign of headlights gleaming through the window.

"Oh there's Mark, he came back for me. I knew he would. He probably couldn't get flowers but I know he'll make it up to me somehow, especially when I tell him the good news.

Thanks again, Hartley for being so helpful, I know we just met, but I feel like I can trust you, you know. Like I've known you before in another life, or something, anyway, I'm probably going to try and run through the rain real quick so I can make it over there just when he opens the door. Are you still not going to say anything Hartley, I told you it's going to be okay—"

Just as she turned to face me there was another loud crack of thunder and I shoved the scissors as hard as I could directly into her stomach. She yelped out in pain, but the sound of the thunder crack drowned her out.

She tried to splay her arms around, trying to hit me, but I held my hand against her mouth and slammed her head into the wall next to the window. I felt her scream against the palm of my hand, as her hands moved their focus towards her now bleeding head.

She tried to push against me, but she was already weak from what her husband had done to her so she couldn't struggle as much. I felt the warm gushing feeling of her blood on my hand as she slid against the wall to the floor.

I looked into her eyes, the fear in them was evident, but I could tell that she was questioning, she wanted to know why I'd done this, what she had done, so I told her.

"It's okay, shhh, it will all be over soon. Just breathe. I'm really sorry I had to do this. You left me no other choice," her eyes went wide, and I could tell she was confused.

I cocked my head and responded with a warm smile,

"Do you have any idea what its like, watching your mother get beat every single day of your childhood. Any idea how weak you feel knowing that you can't protect her.

Any idea what it's like watching her cry and bleed, cry and bleed, cry and bleed, every, single, day. Do you know what that feels like? Just. Like. This. Like someone stabbing you in your stomach every, single, day. Watching him hurt her, watching her in fear as he beat me, watching her serve him until the day he killed her.

Do you know what that's like? It's like someone is killing you over and over and over again." I say as I twist the knife deeper into her stomach, she starts to struggle less, and I can tell it won't be long before she's dead.

"You taught me a very valuable lesson Lisa, as much as my mother claimed to love, she loved him more. So much more that, she let him hurt me. Because she loved him more. She let him beat me because she loved him. She stayed with him through it all, never strong enough to pack up and leave with me, never trying to protect her son.

She might have thrown herself between us at times, hell, even taken some of the blows. But she never left. She stuck with him, no matter how much pain he caused the both of us.

So, do you really think that I would allow you to live, knowing that you bring an innocent child, into a life of misery with that monster you call a husband?" I say and she looks at me, wide eyes dimming down, I watch as the light leaves her eyes, her body stills, and her breathing stops.

I look at her and soon the lights start to flicker back on. I look at the woman beneath me, her lifeless bloodied body beneath me, and I pull the scissors from her body and drop them to the floor. I step back and look at my clothes, my lab coat and sleeve are stained red along with my hand and part of my pants leg and shoes.

I stand up look at what I did, I start to shake, body quaking from adrenaline and I stare at this situation. I couldn't believe it, what I'd done, this was wrong, this shouldn't be happening I didn't just do that. But I did. I have no idea how long I stood there staring at Lisa's lifeless body, but by the time I'd snapped out of it, I knew that I'd come back to reality the rain had stopped.

I had no idea what I was going to do, I'd just killed this girl, she didn't deserve this, it was just my misplaced aggression, I was just angry is all. I had a temporary insanity, that was it, killing my father traumatized me so much that I killed someone else. It was an accident, that's what I'd tell the police it was just an accident.

But then I'd realized, I knew what I was doing. I picked up those scissors with the intent to kill her, that's what any prosecutor would state, and they wouldn't be wrong. As much as I wanted to chalk all this up to fear, temporary insanity, or whatever other lies I was coming up with in my head, this was all me.

I did this, I wanted to do this, and this woman was pregnant, no doubt the coroner would be able to figure that one out. I'd be seen as not only a murderer but a man who murdered a pregnant woman, that was sure to have me thrown into the hole, with no way out.

I had no other option but to just die, if I killed myself right now, I wouldn't have to worry about this, I wouldn't have to go to jail, I deserve nothing short of the death penalty for what I've done. I go over to pick up the bloodied scissors and bring them up to my neck. If I rammed it into my Adam's apple I knew that I would die within seconds, I held the tip of it up to it, but no matter how much I tried, I just couldn't bring myself to do it.

As much as I hated what I had done, or at least made myself hate what I had done, I didn't want to die, not yet, I'm not ready.

I looked down and thought to myself and then I realized something. I could use this my advantage, this girl, she was innocent by all accounts. This was the price the Joker wanted me to pay, I paid it, and if I called the number on the card, maybe they'd clean this up like they did my father.

I quickly ran up to the kitchen counter and found the card they left on the banister for me. I turned it around, careful not to let the blood smear the digits away.

I quickly picked up my receiver, luckily when the power came back the phone lines still worked, it rang a few times, and soon someone picked up.

"What do you need?" a deep voice said on the other line.

"I need—I've done something—it's for Mr. J, I have an uh—he asked me to uh—" I rambled on not really knowing how to say what I had done or what I needed to do.

"We'll be there in ten minutes, take off your clothes and put them next to the 'trash' that you need taken out. Make sure you shower and stay out of our way once we arrive," the voice said back in code before hanging up. I did what I was told and started to remove my clothes, but before I got in the shower, I remembered what the Joker told me to do.

I had to prove that this kill was meant for him, that I did it for him, so I had to show him that. I had no idea if they were going to tell him or if he'd use that as some stipulation that I missed. I couldn't afford for them not to take the body and clean up, I couldn't afford to have this girl's death not mean something.

If she was dead, at least something good came from it besides not having another damaged kid walking around this world ending up like me.

I walked up to Lisa's body, and I took the scissors from the floor in front of her and pulled her mouth open. I started snipping into her flesh in her mouth and even though she was already dead, her blood was still running a little. After I'd finished one side, I started on the other and soon I was finished.

I looked at her and now it looked as though she had wide smiling face. I placed the scissors back on the ground and I heard my front door open and saw the masked men enter. I saw one ushering me out of the way as they started to get to work.

"Her face—make sure he sees her face, it was for him—it was all for him, I did it for him—please he—he has to see it, please!" I say choke out, my voice still shaken.

I feel one of the masked men wearing the elephant mask push me towards the bathroom.

"We'll make sure he gets the message," the man states as he shuts the bathroom door behind me.

I stand there for a few moments, still in shock of what just happened, or what I did. I was in the same place I was when I killed my father. The same place I was when I first took someone's life and it happened again. I stepped into the shower and started to wash my body, and I sank down into my tub as the water washed away my sins for the second time.

I started to cry a little and I couldn't understand it, all this darkness, all this pain was released, and I had no idea what to do with it all.

"What's happening to me," I whisper out to myself in a shaky breath. The only answer I hear is the closing of my apartment door, the masked men were finished.


	14. Chapter 14

_This was where it all started, and this is where it all had to end,_ I thought as I rounded the corner to see the two guards posted in front of that infamous door.

I spent all that night racking my brain, trying to make sense of what I had done to that woman, what I had done to her child. I couldn't understand how I was capable of something so unforgivable. Who was I to take her life away from this world, who was I to decide whether or not her baby was born, who was I to decide whether or not to let her live?

But I did decide those things for her. I took away her choice to live, I took away her choice to learn, and I made it for her. As I gave the men my security code and they opened the door, I knew what had to be done. He's pushed me too far, he's made me feel too much, I can't let this go any further, I have to stop now before it's all too late.

I looked into his eyes and saw the very thing that I feared most, pride. He looked at me as if I just told him he won the lottery. For the first time since I met him, he smiled a smile that was not one of darkness, one of mischievousness, but a pure overjoyed smile. I couldn't help the feeling that spread across my chest at the way he looked at me.

Even though my resolve was strong, all it took was one look from that man, and all that seemed to fade away, but I couldn't let him win again, not this time, not after what I did.

"Doctor, it's so lovely to see you aga—" he starts.

"Save it. I don't care if I passed some stupid test, I don't care if I get a prize, what you made me—what I did, was wrong. I let you get to close, I let myself become too weak, I made a huge mistake coming back here, but I felt I had to tell you in person. I don't care what happens to me now,

I've done something horrible, something unforgivable, and its over. You won, Joker. Just like before, only this time, I know there's no way out. I know what I did, and I'm going to pay for it." I say finally.

"Come now with the dramatics Doctor, that's my thing," he responds coldly.

"It doesn't matter it's over, I'm done." I look him in the eyes, those piercing blue eyes one last time before I turn to leave.

"Doctor..." he says again. I walk towards the cell door and I hear a loud slam on the desk and I jump suddenly. The guards turn to look in the window cut out and I assure them that everything is okay before turning to face him.

He had taken one of his hands out of his straight jacket and slammed it onto the table. He looks at me fiercely, nothing but pure rage in his eyes. I contemplate for a second whether or not to tell the guards I need their help, but his gaze kept me glued to my place.

"Sit. Down. Now." He said each word through his clenched pearly whites, and as much as I was trying to resist his command, I felt compelled to do as he told me and I walked over to my seat and bowed my head. I knew that I could just leave.

I was planning to do just that when I came in here, but anytime I was in his presence, anytime I was around him, his hold over me grew stronger. It was like I was always in a constant battle with my mind and my body, with my body always aching to be near his, no matter how much my mind tried to resist.

"You are my psychiatrist. I have a session. We will have it, whether you like it or not. Are we clear, Dr. Quinzel?" he says his tone deadly serious.

I nod quickly, my head still lowered submissively. His commanding tone excited me to my core, and I cursed myself at my weakness. I always loved to be told what to do, commanded, something about an alpha male always made me hot and I couldn't help but lick my lips at his authority. I looked at him, head still bowed and he continued.

"Now Doctor, you can't go and do something so special for me and act as if meant nothing. My boys told me what you did. How you carved her face all nice and neat for me. How you begged them to make sure I knew it happened.

How you pleaded for them to make sure I knew that this was all for me. I can't tell you how proud that me. I was beaming with excitement, but most importantly, I was excited for you. I was so turned on by you at that moment. How much I wanted to be there, bathed in her blood touching you, feeling you, being inside you.

Your heat wrapping around my dick like a warm blanket, your skin on my skin, it was exhilarating. I gave you choice, and you chose me." he said darkly as his face turned into a wicked smile.

I looked into his eyes, and my body quaked under his gaze and screamed under his words. I needed this man inside me, I needed his body on me, I knew he'd be rough, I knew he'd take me like no man ever could, and I loved it.

The idea alone was enough to make me hard as a rock and my revealing khakis. But I had to resist my urges, I knew what I had to do, I knew that this wasn't supposed to go down like this.

"It doesn't matter if I did it for you or not, what I did was wrong, evil, and I don't deserve to be here, to help anyone, anymore, I'm a monster, and monsters are locked up, which is what's going to happen to me. That's what I deserve, to be thrown into a hole, never to see the light of day again." I respond with quiet contentment.

I'd made peace with whatever was going to be my fate, whether it be prison or the death penalty. It didn't matter, either way, I was going down, but the next question to come from his mouth completely changed every thought that was currently going through my head.

"But how did it make you feel, killing her?" he asked.

I'd expected him to say a lot of things, I'd expected him to try and trick me somehow, to convince me of something, but this question, I'd never even considered that when I was thinking about this conversation.

"What does that have to do with anything?" I asked confused, the truth was I had considered my feelings when I murdered that girl, but I just ignored them because at that moment it wasn't about how I felt, it was about what I did.

And what I did was wrong, no matter how he tried to convince me otherwise. This wasn't like killing my father, this was an innocent woman, she didn't deserve to be killed like that, especially not by me.

"You talk about how wrong it is, how evil what you did was, but never once did I hear you say, 'I should not have killed her' or 'I hate myself for what I did'.

Each time you speak of this situation you continuously comment on the outside response to what you did, so then that tells me that there's something that you're hiding from me. Something you don't want to admit to yourself, so I ask again Doctor, how did it make you feel," he continues, his eyes still trained on me with a small grin pulling on his face.

"It doesn't matter, it was wrong and I'm not doing it again, I'm done with this, all of it, this isn't who I am. We're done talking." I say as I turn to get from my seat and in that same instant, he gripped my wrists and yanked me back to look him in the eyes. I winced at his nails digging into my wrist, seeing the rage still present in his eyes.

"How, did it make, you feel?" he says through gritted teeth, and I can tell by the intensity in his eyes that if I lied to him or avoided the question again, our meeting would end a lot more violently than I planned. I looked at him for a moment and I resolved in myself that this was it, this was the end.

I was done lying to him, lying to Sam, lying to everyone, especially myself. I knew what I was now, I knew there was no use in pretending as if I was anything else. I fought how I felt when I killed my father, I tried to hock it up to anger.

I fought these feelings every single time I had one of those dark thoughts run through my head when people made me feel like dirt. I even tried to fight what I felt when I killed that girl and her unborn baby, but not anymore. I'm done fighting.

I looked him in the eyes, this man who brought out this darkness inside of me, who'd toyed with my emotions from the moment I laid eyes on him, the one who's made me feel emotions that I've been trying to suppress for years and I smiled.

"Like. A. God," I responded, he returned my smile and released his grip on my wrist, he regarded me for a moment and I sat back down. I scooted my chair up closer to the table between us and interlaced my fingers as I placed my hands on it.

"You know, Mr. J, I spent all of my life, fighting this feeling, every waking moment trying to suppress what I've always truly wanted. The first time I felt that blade in my hands, the first time I saw the blood trickle down from my father's body, I knew I never wanted to put it down again," I stated, being completely honest with the man in front of me, he just looked at me and listened intently, I continued.

"I always thought that it was my job to stop this darkness inside me, I did it by helping people, or at least what I thought was helping people. I told them, I told my best friend, that he wrong for the way he was, it was wrong to hurt others, but the truth is...it was all a lie.

I lied to him, to myself, to everyone. I wanted to be normal, more than anything else in the world, and then I met you, Mr. J," I said as I looked at him, he cocked his head a little in mock confusion,

"This man who everyone wrote as a monster, a man who killed without remorse, who destroyed lives with glee, and I was—I was hooked. Even when I tried to resist you, it was like the universe was sending me the sign that maybe, just maybe, this was always meant to happen.

You know, after our first meeting, that first time I laid eyes on you, I knew how much I would grow to want you, to need you, so I was grateful when I thought that I was never going to see you again.

Then I get reassigned, get blackmailed into being your psychiatrist, and over the course of only a few weeks, you've shown me more about myself than I ever would have discovered over the course of an entire lifespan. You showed me what it was like to be cared about, to be comforted, to be important.

You made me feel like there was something in this God forsaken world that was worth it. Killing my father, killing that girl, made me feel like I had the choice now. It was no longer other people deciding my fate, but me deciding theirs.

You gave me the power to be something greater, the power to be who I am, the power to be a God in a world of hypocrites, liars, and abusers. This...hell."

"I'm the angel that gripped you tight and raised you from perdition.

I've shown you the power you wield in a world where you felt powerless. And now you are free, how does that feel?" he asks.

"It feels...incomplete," I respond.

"How so?"

"Because you told me that if I killed that girl for you that I would have what I desired most...you. All of you. And I want what you promised me, Mr. J. I want what you said you wanted to do me when you heard about me killing that girl for you.

I want you more than anything else in the world, please, Mr. J. I killed for you, I did all you asked, please let me have what I earned." I say as I lean in closer to give him a kiss, and he pulls away just as our lips are about to touch.

"Oh come now, Hartley, you didn't think it would be that easy, now did you? You've killed two people, big whoop, you tell me you need me, cute, but I need more than that, my dear doctor."

"What, else do you want, what will it take for you to realize that I need you, what do you have to do?" I asked, nearly begging him.

"It's simple. Get me. The hell. Out of here." He says slowly, a menacing tone evident in his voice. I look at him and try to figure out what my next move would be, but the option was clear I search his face, and his resolve absolute.

The only way that I was going to prove myself to him is if I did this, so I look down at my hands and griped balled them into a fist.

"How?" I respond, not daring to look him in the eyes for fear of changing my mind.

"There is a remote in your office desk, bottom left drawer, pull it out. When the clock strikes 1:30 press that button, then your loyalty will be proven," he looks over to the clock, and continues,

"You have ten minutes to make your decision doctor, it's either all in or all out. The choice is yours."

"What if I don't press it," I ask, still looked down at my hands.

He walks over to me, I watch him pass me through my peripheral vision, he leans down and I can feel him watching me, he walks behind my seat and I can feel his breath on the back of my neck.

"Then this," he licks me from the nape of my neck to the bottom of my jaw and stops at my right ear and whispers,

"Will have all been for nothing."

He walks away from me sits back down and starts to put his straight jacket back on. I look at him, his face stern and unmoving and he says,

"Choose wisely, Doctor." He says finally, and I know that this is the end of our conversation.

I get up from my desk and walk to the door, I knock for the guards to let me out and I don't even bother to look back at him as they close the door behind me. I make my way down the hall to the elevator and ride it back up to my floor. I step out and walk briskly to my office and I brush past Dr. Sorkin, she looks as if she was about to speak to me, but she decides not to.

I silently thank her for understanding that the last thing I need from her is her annoyingly bubbly persona, especially not with everything going on in my head.

I get to my office door, and close the door behind me, I look at my desk, everything seems to be intact, my computer still up and running, everything seemed tucked away, but I knew that if he'd gotten someone to plant something in here, they wouldn't have made it obvious that someone had been in here.

I locked my office door, and walked behind my desk, I went to the drawer, he'd directed me to, and I opened it up. Just as he had said, there was a remote with one red button on it. I picked it up and held my finger to the red button. I looked at the clock on my computer, it read 1:27.

_Great, I've got three minutes to decide what I'm going to with my life. I press this button, I let loose a vicious criminal who will stop at no end to destroy all of Gotham. I don't press this button, and I lose the only person I have left in the world that could ever help me understand more about who I am._

_Without Sam, who else was going to love me besides him. Who else would understand why I had to kill my father and that girl. Who else could make me feel as free as I do when I'm with him. Who?_

I look at the clock again, two minutes. I'm running out of time. I know what I just told him, I know that I want him, but am I really ready to make this type of commitment. Am I really prepared to be tied to this man forever, to risk losing my job because of him?

_One minute._

This is a choice that I know is going to change my life forever, and I know that this was going to end badly, I knew that what I decide to do next will change everything.

 _30 seconds_. But it doesn't matter because this man was what I needed in my life.

 _20 seconds_. He and I were meant for each other.

 _15 seconds._ I want him more than anything else in the world.

 _10 seconds_. I need him to know that I don't just want him for his body, or his mind, but for more than that.

 _5 seconds_. I wanted him for...his love.

 _1 second_. I closed my eyes as the clock struck 1:30 and I pressed down on the red button.

 _Boom!_ I heard the loud sound crash into my ears like a wave.

For a few moments I thought it had happened right in my office from how loud the sound was, but after looking around the office I knew that it hadn't been here. It was only about five minutes after that I heard people yelling and scrambling around outside my door.

I walked over to my door and opened it only to be met by people running a screaming. It was like someone opened a cage of rabid dogs the way people screamed and scrambled down the hall.

I wondered for a few minutes if the bomb had gone off on this floor, but then when I heard the gunshots I knew that it wasn't the bomb people were running from, but the gunfire that was just starting go ablaze.

I closed my office door, fearing what was about to happen next. I thought for a moment to leave and run with the crowd but something inside me knew that if I stepped outside this door I wasn't going to make it out of here alive.

I decided to do the next best thing, I walked over to the bookcase sitting in my office and tried my best to push closer to block off the door, however, just as I was doing it I could hear the gunfire growing closer.

I knew that the men were closing in so I quickly dove behind my desk, pulled my chair as close to my body as I could, to make it look like no one was in here.

Then I heard the door break up, someone rammed themselves through I could tell, and I quietly sat there and hoped to myself that they would just leave. I heard the footsteps of about three pairs of shoes on the floor and I knew they were inside.

Once again, I hoped and prayed to whatever deity that was listening, that they just walk out and leave me be but then I saw the men, they walked behind the desk yanked out the chair and hoisted me to my feet. They were all masked and they looked very similar to those of the cleanup men that I called.

I tried pulling against them but they lifted me with ease, two of them held me tight as I struggled against them while the other led us out and down the hall, and down some stairs to a room. I felt the fear rising in my chest, I had no idea what was about to happen next.

They opened a door and I saw a small metal table in the middle of the room with an interrogation light directly above it. I looked to the left and right of me and I saw him, my Joker, without his shirt on, and he seemed to be toying with a machine that looked very much so like the ones they used for electroshock therapy.

At first, I was disgusted, I had no idea that this was going on in this building, but then when I heard the sound of the machine humming to life I knew what was about to happen next. The men lifted me up from the floor and slammed me onto the cold metal table.

"Get off me! Get off me!" I scream at them, but from they only gripped me tighter and held me down. I knew that if I really tried I could get away, but it wasn't worth it, I just wanted to know why he was doing this to me.

"Well, well, what do we have here," he says hitting the two charged cylinder-shaped electrodes together.

I could hear the sound of the sparks as one of his men pulled the machine closer to the table as the Joker walked up and looked down at me and smiled. Even upside down, I could see the clear maniacal grin etched on his face, with his wild blue eyes.

"I did everything you said, I helped you," I plead.

"You helped me? Is that what you think? What, you thought that we were going to ride off into the sunset together?" he asks as he and his men laugh darkly.

"But, you said that—you said if I—you told me that—" I tried to choke out as the tears started to fall.

"You said, you told me, wah wah wah, poor little Hartley, poor little faggot." His words hit me like a ton of bricks.

I felt like my whole world was caving in. I'd been called that before, but to hear him say it, with such anger, it stung worse than anything he could have ever done to me.

"But you let me—you touched—" I started.

"Don't you get it! Everything, everything I did, was for this moment right here. When I broke you. When I made you feel so alone that you would do exactly what I wanted you to do. I let you suck my dick, I jerked you off because I knew that by doing so, by leaving you wanting more, you would be like putty in my hands.

Sure, it disgusted me to have to touch you like that, letting you touch me, but hey, we all make sacrifices." He stated. I looked around the table at the men around me, they were unfazed by his comments, probably in on the whole thing.

I looked at him, nothing but hurt in my eyes, I knew this was situation was inevitable. I knew that he was using me from the start, but part of me, part of me wanted to believe that towards the end, we'd grown closer, that maybe he started to feel something.

I remembered the way he looked at me when I swallowed him, the way he hugged me so gentle and caring, there was absolutely no way that all that was acting. It's not possible, I don't buy it. I don't believe it. I won't believe it.

"So everything, every moment we shared, everything that happened between us, was all a lie?" I asked.

"Every. Last. Thing. You were just a pawn Doctor, just a very, very willing pawn, you killing your father, that girl, all of it was just a way to destroy you.

I wanted you to suffer from the moment I met you. All fiery and headstrong, thinking you could break me, well, look who broke who," he laughs darkly,

"I saw the way you looked at me, saw the raw need in your eyes, the desperation, I knew from that moment, that I would enjoy tearing you apart, and I have. You've lost everything, and now I get the pleasure of taking away the last thing that you had left, your desire to be with me.

I'm going to let you in on a little secret Dr. Quinzel, you mean nothing to me."

He leaned in closer and I could tell that he was gearing up to use those electrodes on me, I saw one of his friends turn the power up on the machine and I knew what was coming next. I looked at his grinning face, I could tell that this was his plan all along, he was trying to hurt me.

He was trying to make me hate him so that that I died knowing I had nothing left. But I wasn't interested in hating him, his words may have hurt me, but he was going to have to say a lot worse than that to break me. My father taught me a lot of things, but the most important thing was that words were just that, words.

He could say that it didn't mean anything, that I meant nothing to him, but I've been told worse, so much worse.

"So what are you going to do? You're going kill me, Mr. J?" I asked.

"Oh no, I'm not going to kill you, somebody's got to take the fall for all this, somebody has to take the blame, why not let that be you. They're going to want to know who set off that bomb, and they're going to figure out it was you, at least that's the plan.

So no, killing you does nothing for me. Killing your spirit, just before I destroy your life, that's everything. But just because I'm not going to kill you, doesn't mean I'm not going to hurt you, really, really bad." He says as he starts to bring the electrodes closer to my temple.

"You think so?" I respond, he paused for a second,

"Well I can take it."

His expression wavers for a moment, and I can see an emotion cross his face, but before I can read it he turns away and pulls a belt up and snaps it once.

"Don't want you to break those beautiful pearly white teeth, when the juice hits your brain," he states again and pulls the folded belt to my mouth.

I open and bite down on the leather, and he smiles and starts to bring the electrodes to my temples again. I close my eyes as the whining sound the electricity gets finer the closer it got to my head, then it made contact.

I felt the energy pulse through my body felt like it was on fire, my entire body, every sensation, every feeling, I felt it all. It was like every sensation, everything I could feel, I was feeling. My body was in hyperdrive and I was hyper-aware of every single thing that was happening to me.

I was thankful he'd given me the belt to bite on because I ground my teeth against the tough leather so hard that I thought I was going to tear right through it. As it pulsed through me I tried to fight against the grip of the men holding me down, but they held me in place.

I had no idea what feeling was worse, the electrocution or the fact that I couldn't move as the hot electricity flowed through my body.

The feeling was nothing like anything I'd ever experienced before, it was like I was burning all over inside and out. I could barely breathe because the pain was so severe, I had no idea how to react so I just screamed as my teeth against the belt.

He stopped for a moment. I felt my body convulsing trying to come back to reality, but the moment my breathing started to calm a little, he upped the level and hit me again. This time it was worse. This time my eyes opened briefly and I could see the glint in his eyes, the glee he felt for causing me this type of pain.

The pain was blinding, soon it was no longer, me screaming against the leather, but my body just convulsing. I felt myself start to slip away more, I couldn't feel anything anymore.

I knew that he was still electrocuting me, I knew that he was still upping the intensity, I knew it was getting worse, but I wasn't in my body anymore. It was like when I was younger, and my father would beat me, at first it would be unbearable, at first I couldn't handle the pain, but soon, my mind would suppress the part of my consciousness that experiences the pain.

I would just be a passenger while my body endured what was being done to it. Part of me wanted to be upset with him, part of me wanted to hate him, but deep down I knew I deserved this. I knew that this was something that needed to happen. I was a murderer, and I was in love with a sociopath, what exactly did I expect to happen besides something like this.

This is what motivated me into returning to the forefront of my mind. I forced myself from slipping out of consciousness, I forced myself to feel the pain. I knew I could escape in my mind if I wanted to, I know I could not feel this, but I had to show him that I could take it.

No matter what he said, how he felt, what he wanted, he was going to be mine, and if I'm going to be with someone like this, someone who enjoys causing pain to others, then I have to be willing to experience it. I had to learn how to enjoy experiencing it, just as much as he enjoyed causing it.

It was the only way that it would work between us, he may think he's pushing me away by doing this, but truthfully, this is closer to him than I ever thought I'd be. He may be torturing me, he may be hurting me, but he hasn't killed me yet. That was what kept me from hating him, kept my heart from breaking because if he didn't care as much as he wants me to believe he doesn't, then why is he here torturing me when he could be escaping?

Why is he still here hurting me, trying to make me not want him, when he could just kill me and be done with it? I do matter to him, that's why he's taking so much effort to make me think that I don't, I made him feel something, and that is what keeps him on my mind.

So I feel it all die out, soon the pulses stop and the men let me go, although I'm still in so much pain, that I wouldn't be able to move even if I tried. He looked down at me smiling at pat the side of my face lightly,

"He's going to be out for a while, take him home, I don't want anyone else to see him, I want him there so he can suffer alone, just like he was always meant to," he says darkly as he walks away from the table.

I feel hands over my body, hoisting me up and soon I feel myself being tossed around like I was some rag doll. I knew that they'd put me in a car, I knew that it wasn't long before I was being thrown onto the hardwood floor of my apartment and hearing the door close behind me.

Time was moving a warp speed it felt like, one minute I was at Arkham and the next I was laying in very same stop that I killed my father in. I could still smell the faint scent of bleach that was still wafting from it. I laid there unable to move for what felt like hours, and I thought back to what the men had said in the car, about the Joker, wanting them to meet up at some spot.

Some industrial district in Gotham, a steel mill I think is what he'd said. I reached into my mind and remembered passing by something similar when I first came into Gotham, I'd heard that it was formerly owned by the Falcone Shipping and Sionis Industries.

Going back to the in and out of consciousness memories of the men who took me home, I'd remembered them saying something about it being the Joker's Funland, and I knew immediately that's where I had to go.

It had only been a few hours before I got enough energy to get back up and clean myself off, I had sweated through my clothes, so I knew I had to shower. Thankfully, the moment the shower water hit me, I started to pee and I was so grateful that it happened here rather than while he was shocking me because, toward the end, I was really close too.

I was still a little jittery when I walked up to the mirror and had to force myself to calm down, I dried off and started to get dressed. Those few hours I'd spent unconscious on the floor helped me recuperate a little from the intensity of the pain that I was feeling. I knew I should probably rest, I knew that it would be better for me not to go after him again.

But I had no idea if this was the last chance I was going to get. I had to see him again, prove to him that I wasn't going anywhere. This resolve helped me get to a point where there was nothing but adrenaline coursing through me, so I was no longer feeling the aftereffects of the pain, I was on a mission, find my Mr. J, and thanks to some very vocal henchmen I knew where to look.

Now I understood Lisa's choice to go back to Marc, I understood why so many people got back to the pain because sometimes that's all you know. The pain is what helps us become who we are meant to be, the pain is what molds us into our destiny, and sometimes can even draw you to someone you love more than life itself.

People would think I was crazy going back after this man, after what he had done, hell, before today, I would think I was certifiably disturbed as well. But after all that's happened, after losing so much, he was all that I have left, and I'll be damned if I was going to let him just pick up and leave me in the wind. He can push me away all he wants, but I'm not going anywhere. He's stuck with me now.

"Oh Mr. J, hope you didn't think you'd get rid of me that easily, now did you?" I laugh quietly to myself as I head out the door.


	15. Chapter 15

I never realized just how much not having a car sucked until I was walking down the long seeming never-ending street to get to Joker's Funland. I've only lived in Gotham now for a couple weeks and usually kept to myself when going out to work so trying to find this place was nearly impossible. I'd gone through a few bad neighborhoods, asked around trying to find someone who could direct me to where I needed to be.

Finally, I found some shady type that told me that it was just along this street, once I reached the end of it, I would be there, but it was the walking that seemed to take forever. I knew one thing for certain, the first chance I got at getting a car, I was going to hop on it. I remember Lisa telling me that she and her husband own a black Impala, I might have to check that once Mr. J and I finally made it official.

I had no idea what I was going to say to him once I saw him again, but I did know that I needed to see him. Even though it had only been a few hours since I last saw him, I just missed him so much. I thought for a few moments while walking about how I would explain all this to him.

It surprised me how much he wanted me to hate him, how hard he was trying to push me away, but I knew that I had to let him know that I wasn't going anywhere, and he wasn't about to push me away that easily. I was growing more tired the farther I walked until I finally saw a large building covered in all types of amusement park paraphernalia.

Clowns, lights, the works, it looked like it was a coming attraction to the fair, the only thing that was missing was the fact that none of the lights were turned on. It was all dark and foreboding from the area I was approaching. Of course, there were a few flickering street lights that kept me from just meandering around blind, but it still made it more and more frightening.

I walked up the large entryway into the front and saw that there were two masked guards that were standing in the front of the building. I ducked behind one of the dumpsters that were close to the front before they noticed me.

 _Shit, what the hell am I going to do_ , I thought to myself.

I knew that they were armed as far as I could tell, but I didn't have any weapons at my disposal so I was completely unarmed. I could try fighting them, but if they make too much noise, or use one of their weapons, there's no doubt that Mr. J would hear the commotion and either leave or come out guns ablaze and I can't risk going up against however many goons he's got stationed inside there.

I slide behind the dumpster and assess what my next move was going to be, I check in my pocket and feel the syringe's imprint in my pant leg. Even though I used most of the serum on my father, there was still enough left in it to at least temporarily stun someone.

I knew I had to get past them, and they weren't going to go quietly. I tumbled rolled over to another box that was closer to the entrance and I saw one of the men look to the side almost taking notice.

Thankfully there was one on either side of the front entrance so if I got rid of one, it would be a few moments before the other would notice. I looked at the smaller framed man and decided to take him out first.

When he turned his head to look at the other side of the empty lot I walked up behind him yanked his mask off, covered his mouth, and stuffed the syringe into his neck.

He whimpered a little and I pulled him to the side of the building because I knew the other man would hear. As the man beneath me started to still a little I used this opportunity to snap his neck.

The harsh crack was like music to my ears and I waited quietly as I heard the crunching of the gravel as the other man walking over to see his partner.

I surmised that he would probably have his weapon drawn ready to shoot a standing person, so I decided to go low the moment I saw one of his feet come into view, I grabbed it and yanked him so that he would fall onto his back. Just like I assumed, his weapon was drawn and he was planning to shoot, however, I knocked him off balance so his weapon flew right from his hand.

I jumped on top of him quickly removed his mask too so that I could cover his mouth and shoved the syringe I pulled from the first guard into his Adam's apple. He struggled beneath me for a few seconds, but as the warm blood started to rush through my hands I knew that he wasn't going to last long, soon his body stilled too.

I got up from on top of him and stood up, wiping my hands off on their shirts and looked at the two dead bodies I was responsible for.

It filled me with dark glee to know that I did this, that I ripped their lives from this world. I knew that it was a feeling that I was going to take some getting used to, but I knew that it was necessary. If I was going to belong to Mr. J, I was going to have to kill people a lot more often, and I didn't mind.

I enjoyed watching them struggle for life, I enjoyed killing them because I knew that their deaths would bring me that much closer to Mr. J and me being together. I walked over to the front entrance and opened it up, I heard a few distant voices coming from further into the building and smiled to myself a little.

A few voices meant that there weren't as many guards as I thought, so that means that there are fewer people that are standing my way. I walk down the dimly lit hallway and looked around at all the toys and trinkets that were just lying around, large clown heads just sitting on the floor, and dozens of party gags and favors sprinkled everywhere.

I did see a two metal conveyor belts that were just in the middle of the building, no doubt, leftovers from when this place was a factory. I continued down the hallway and I saw a room that was lit more than the others, it was on the second floor of a metal staircase that was heading up to it. No doubt the place where the supervisor would oversee production, I walked up the stairs slowly, careful not to make too much noise.

I didn't want him to know I was there just yet, I wanted it to be a surprise. I walked up to the door and listened in.

"A lot has gone down since you left J," one man, with a deadly deep voice spoke.

"People running around town thinking they run shit, we tried to hold it down for you, but they thought they finally got you this time. The north district was taken over by the Penguins men, Falcone made some type of deal with him when you left and now they're trying to muscle in on our territory." Another man responded.

"You're telling me that I can't trust you to keep a fucking bird in check while I'm away, or are you all so fucking incapable that I have to do everything myself? Then why are any of you still alive then?" I hear Mr. J respond, his voice deadly serious, but his tone taking on the jovial happy sound that he always has.

"Listen J, we just didn't want to make any moves until you got back, you're the boss, if we made a wrong move we could have lost everything, we didn't think—" _Pow!_

The sound of the gunshot being fired startled me so much so that I accidentally hit my head against the metal railing on the side of the staircase. But thankfully, the sound of the body hitting the ground was loud enough to camouflage it. I heard the yipping of about two creatures inside and realized that maybe

Mr. J had dogs too, but the sound that these animals made was very similar to a laughing sound. I rubbed my head a little as I continued listening in, loving hearing my Mr. J, take such control of his crew.

"That's just it, you didn't think Azazel, you didn't use your head, but I will say that red really is your color," he responds with his signature chuckle, and I couldn't help but laugh a little at his quip. Although that had proved to be a big mistake because one of the goons had overheard it.

"Hey J, I think we've got an eavesdropper," the voice is harsh and I can hear the man rise from his seat, along with about two other people. Three men, I count, with the exception of Mr. J and the man he'd just killed.

"We've got a nosy little anteater in our midst, do we? Come out, come out wherever you are, the Joker's got a treat for you?" I hear Mr. J call out in a sing-song voice.

I slowly rise to my feet in view of the open window with my hands raised up showing that I am unarmed. I look inside to see the faces of the three men that I heard speaking, all tough boy, gangster types, Mr. J in the middle looking at me with surprise, and the two animals chained in the corner, which I realized were two large brown hyena's.

The room they were in was especially roomy meaning it must have not just been an office, but maybe another work area when this was a factory. The floors were white marble with the exception of the bloodstained floor of the man who'd just been shot. I also noticed that this was the only building lit place in the building that had working lighting.

I looked inside and noticed that just like everything else downstairs, there were all types of toys trinkets, and other things all over the floor.

Some spaces big enough to hide behind and some light enough to throw. I'd assessed all of this in the few moments that I was standing there with the men whose weapons were drawn to me, I learned in self-defense classes to always be aware of my surroundings and to be able to adapt in any given situation.

Something inside told me that I was going to have to know that during this situation. I looked at Mr. J and smiled brightly, waving my right hand erratically like a toddler who just saw its mother coming to pick them up from school. He rolled his eyes, at me and turned to walk away.

"I don't have time for this, teach that fag a lesson for listening in on our private conversations, then throw his ass out of here, understood," he walks away, and I see flick his hand back and the men lower their weapons and tuck them away.

He said he wanted them to teach me a lesson, and throw me out, but not once did he say kill. That means, I still have a shot, he might be upset, but he doesn't want me dead. He made them lower their weapons before he left, which means that he wanted them to fight me hand to hand.

I saw him walk out the back way of the room and I realized that the men that were coming towards me had very similar body types to the men who'd come to get rid of my father and Lisa's body. As they walked toward me I let them pull me into the room and one of the men had pulled my hands behind my back as he interlaced his arms in mine to keep me from moving.

The other two start to punch me in my gut and all over my lower body, and I will myself not to feel it, it wasn't until I knew that Mr. J was no longer in earshot that I started to laugh a little. Both the men stopped and looked at me strangely as I continued to laugh more, and louder, they started to punch me again, and I just kept laughing.

"What the fuck are you laughing at fag," one of the men finally snapped at me and I looked at him my laugh starting to die out.

"Is that the best you got?" I respond, at this comment, the other man punches me in my stomach again, hard enough so that he'd make me cough a little.

"How about that?" he asks acting smug, once I got my breath back I start to laugh again,

"Can I have another," I say and the two stare at me dumbfounded and start to wail on me again, it wasn't until I heard a car rev up the ignition, it wasn't until I heard it skid off that I knew that Mr. J was leaving. I couldn't just let him go, he can't leave me, not until I talk to him.

"Mr. J, where's—he going?" I ask in between punches.

"None of your business, faggot, he doesn't have time to deal with groupies," he stated and just before he can land another blow, I use the man's weight that was holding me in place, to leap into the air and kick the two men in the face, startling them so much that they falter back.

While in the air I flip behind the man holding me back, who was clearly surprised at my sudden movement, and when I land behind him I kick him in the back sending him falling forward into the other men. As they start to draw their weapons and regain their composure, I pick up the table that they were all sitting at and roll it forward onto them knocking the weapons from their hands.

One of the men had got up in time though and just as he was about to lunge forward, I took his head in both my hands and slammed it into my knee, and throw him headfirst into the door the metal door that I was listening behind and saw his head crack open, but not before I pulled his other gun from his waist to shoot the other man, who in the commotion had stood up to try and shoot me.

I shot him in the leg fist, watched him scream a little before I shot him straight through the forehead. The other man had finally got to his feet and before he could draw his other weapon I shot him in his left arm and he fell to the floor. I walked over to the man whose arm I just shot and straddled him as the hyena's yipped on in excitement. I looked over at them, tired of the yipping and yelled,

"Quiet!"

They lowered their heads and mewed in subservience. I had to focus and I didn't have time for them to keep making all this noise. The man beneath me tried to clutch his bleeding arm at the same time as he was trying to push me off and reach for his weapon.

I pushed the weapon away from him and started to punch the man, first on his left, then on his right, and repeated, I did it for a few minutes before I realized that Mr. J had already left and depended on how much of a rush he's in, I didn't have much time to catch up with him.

I looked at the man whose face was starting swell at my constant attack and spoke,

"Listen very closely, I'm going to ask you three questions and I want straight answers, if not, there will be repercussions, understood," the man looks at me and nods, I continue,

"What car is he driving? What does it look like? And where's he headed?"

"It's a purple, Vaydor sports car, he's probably going to his other spot downtown, it's not that far from here, it's over the bridge you won't miss it?" he word vomits out, clearly afraid of me hitting him again, I loved the response, it was quite satisfying seeing someone afraid of me for once.

Looks like all those martial arts, gymnastics, and gun lessons really paid off. I always knew I wanted to be able to defend myself, but without that pesky worry that I was going to hurt someone weighing me down, I could really let loose and it was thrilling.

Satisfied with the man's answer I get up from him, but not before I kick him in his bleeding arm to further accentuate my point. I was just about the leave out to go after to him when I realized something.

"You know, I don't think Mr. J should have someone working for him who'd just give him up so quickly, wonder what other secrets you would have spilled had I pushed a little harder. Can't have someone like that just waltzing around with that kind of information not can we?" I ask approaching him.

"No, please, I told you what you wanted to know, please," he says as he scrambles trying to get to his gun, but before he can I lean down and broke his other arm.

He screamed out in pain and picked up the gun on the floor beside him and shot both of his feet. I needed him to be helpless as I rifled through his pockets and found what appeared to be motorcycle keys and grabbed him by his shirt as I pulled the whimpering man's body towards the hyena's and they looked up at me, I smiled and he continued to plead with me,

"Dig in," I said and they started to tear into his neck and I watched for a few moments as they killed the man before me. I petted the two of them as they ripped through his flesh like a kid opening Christmas presents. It was a magnificent sight, but I couldn't watch for long, I had to go after Mr. J. I ran out the way I saw him leave and hurried down the stairs to the makeshift parking lot on the back of the building that leads out into the street.

I walked right up to the black Harley Davidson parked near the road, put the key in the ignition, revved it up and started to rode out the street. I was flying down the busy street going as fast as this motorcycle would take me to catch up to Mr. J.

I knew he couldn't have gone far, being that he only left a few minutes earlier than I did. I'd never ridden a motorcycle before, but it wasn't that different from what I expected, you just pick up and go, simple. But I did waver a few times, trying to get through the traffic that was blocking my path.

I skidded past several cars, but I was only focused on the one that I was looking for, the one that contained my Mr. J. I kept looking kept searching, and eventually, I'd made my way to the bridge the man was telling me about, on it, I finally saw the purple Vaydor.

 _There he is_ , my thoughts screamed in excitement, and my heart leaped at this reveal.

I revved it up a little more to catch up and I pulled up to the side of the car, I looked inside to see Mr. J and for a few moments he didn't notice me, so I revved it up a few more times. He looked over at me and I smiled, he rolled his eyes and put his and over the left side of his face to block his view of me.

That was the last straw, not only did he leave me there with his goons, but now he was just flat out ignoring me. I don't think so. I huffed out in anger and revved the bike up some more so that I was going faster than he was, I had no idea what I was about to do, but I knew I had to do something to get his attention.

So against my better judgement, I got far in front of his car, and in one swift motion I started to pull my leg from the other side of the bike so that I was on one side and stood on it in a kneeling position, and turned it in a way so that it would start to slide on one side.

It skidded down the road until it had come to a nearly complete stop and I stepped off of it and walked in front of the purple Vaydor that was approaching. Whether he liked it or not he was going to talk to me, I had to tell him how he makes me feel. I saw his face in through the glass on the driver's side, he looked like he was in his own debate in his head, the car wasn't making a motion to slow down.

I was ready to die if that was what it took to get his attention, so I made no move to get out of the way. At the very last second, I heard the car start to screech in halt as he slowed it down until it was only a few inches away from my stomach.

"You're not leaving me. You're not leaving me!" I yell at him as I slam my hands down onto the hood. He steps out of the car looking extremely annoyed and walks up to me, I barely notice the eighteen wheeler that stopped behind his car.

"I did everything you told me, I passed every test, every initiation, and you still push me away, still try and act like what we had with each other was a lie? I have proved to you time and time again that I am yours, and yours alone, why can't you just accept it?" I ask him.

He looks at me, shaking his head in frustration. The eighteen wheeler behind his car starts to blow the horn repeatedly.

"Why can't you just get it through that thick head of yours, or did I not make it clear how I felt when I said you were nothing to me. God, you're starting to be a real pain in the ass, you know that? The only reason that you're still alive is that I find your antics, mildly amusing," he responds.

"Amusing, is that what you think, that I did all of this just because I want to amuse you? That I killed my father, killed that girl and her baby for that? I don't think so.

Don't you get it by now, Mr. J, I need—you know what, fuck it, I'm tired of being afraid of saying it. Mr. J, I did all of this, everything, because...because...," he starts to turn away, "because I love you."

At this comment, he stops. He cocks his head and turns to face me, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. The eighteen wheeler still blows their horn in the background.

"Love me?" he asks.

"Yes," I respond simply.

"Oh how cute, but you see, I am not someone who is 'loved'," he starts and then he claps suddenly,

"I am an idea, a state of being, I execute my will, according to my plan, and you, Doctor are not part of those plans."

I walk toward him and try to grab his face, but before I can, he grips them and pushes them away,

"Just let me in please, Mr. J, I promise that I won't hurt you."

"Promise?" he says,

"All promises are broken, Doctor. That's just the fact of life, you say that you love me, but you have no idea what that means, no idea what you would be getting yourself into."

The way he says it, I know it's supposed to be menacing, but the way in which his eyes falter at the statement, the way his blue eyes take on that innocent appearance again, it makes me wonder. Is he's more afraid of loving me than he is of me loving him? I walk up close to him, and he doesn't face me, but I don't move.

"Mr. J, you don't have to be afraid of what you feel, it's okay to love me too, you know? If you're afraid of what other people might think or what you might do to me, you don't have to be. I can take it." He looks at me again, and for the briefest of moments, I can see his vulnerability.

I can see his fear, but just as quickly as it was there, it left, and he pushed me away from him, and I stumbled back.

"You think I'm afraid of that? Get it through your head, I don't care what anyone thinks about me or what you feel. I'm the Joker, I do what I want, when I want, and to who I want.

And sadly for you, doctor, you're not what I want, nor will any man be what I want. I don't like dick. End of discussion. Come near me again, and it won't end—"

"Hey faggots, mind screaming at your butt buddy somewhere else?" the man driving the eighteen wheeler says as he steps and starts to walk towards us.

In that same moment, I pull the gun from Mr. J's waist and shoot the man in his forehead, killing him instantly as he falls to the ground, I didn't have time to deal with his homophobia.

"I was going to say, 'I wouldn't do that if I were you' _,_ " Mr. J starts as he turns to the now dead truck driver, although when he turns around, I have the gun pointed directly at his forehead, with my hand firmly on the trigger, and look at him with nothing but anger in my eyes.

"Don't hurt me," he muses, feigning fear,

"I'll be your friend, come on, do it! Do it! Do it!"

I look at him and a tear starts to run down my face,

"Being with me scares you, but a gun doesn't," he snatches the gun from my hand and hits me across the face with the butt of his gun. I fall to the ground and he kicks me in the stomach.

"You really thought I'd let you shoot me?" he starts to kick me again in the stomach.

"I wasn't going to kill you, you know I wouldn't," I choke out.

"Doesn't matter!" he screams, he starts to kick again, this time with a little more force,

"It's the principal, never, cock, a gun, unless, you plan, to, use it." He accentuates each word with a kick.

Before I know it I'm starting to cough at the pain, and I can taste the penny flavored blood at the back of my throat. Unlike when the other men hit me, and I just forced myself not to feel it, I allowed myself to feel his blows, his anger, because I needed to.

I had to get used to this, this was who he was, he was going to keep pushing me away until I left, but I had to prove that I wasn't going anywhere. He stopped, and knelt down and gripped my face in one hand and brought me close as I stared into those beautiful blue oceans and nice full lips.

"Go. Away."

He says before pushing my head back and walking back to his car and driving off. I lay there for a few moments, trying to catch my breath some and gathering my composure. I stood up with some hesitation, this consistent wear and tear on my body was getting to me, but I kept pushing through.

It was like all those years with my father's consistent abuse trained me for this day, trained me to be able to take all the punishment my body was enduring and get up and keep it pushing. I didn't have time to focus on the pain because Mr. J was getting away again, so just like I did before, I just blocked it out, like I did everything else that happened.

I'm just happy that no one punched me in the face yet, I may be bruised from the neck down, but at least I could say what I had to Mr. J without a busted lip or black eye.

I picked up the motorcycle and cranked it up, thankful that it had not been completely trashed at my stunt, and followed suit after Mr. J. I couldn't see the Vaydor anymore, so I just followed the road until I saw something that looked like I wouldn't miss it if I tried. At least that's what the man said to do.

I rode down the road and eventually, it led off to a dirt path, where I saw a large dimly lit factory with a car parked out in front. I briefly wondered, just how many factories Mr. J owned but I let it go. I parked the motorcycle next to the car, I searched the parking lot for any sign of the Vaydor, but it was nowhere in sight. I looked at the car beside me, and I couldn't help but feel like I'd see it somewhere before, it looked eerily familiar.

I ignored the feeling though because now I was at the advantage, Mr. J hadn't arrived yet, and if there was only one car here that meant that there was probably only one guard inside.

I walked up cautiously to the front entrance, and just as I suspected there were no guards, guarding the outside. I wondered how many abandoned factories were actually in Gotham, but I continued to open the large metal doors cautiously and the moment I walked in I saw one light down the hall.

I walked towards it, bracing myself to find a guard or someone waiting for me, and when I walked up to it, I realized, that it was a bedroom, or at least as much of a bedroom as you could get in a factory room. It looked somewhat warm, the king sized bed in the middle of the floor, with brightly colored sheets and the walls seemed to be painted this off-white color.

There was three chests of drawers around the room packed with clothes and full-length mirror beside the bedside. I wondered for a moment if this was his home or just a place that he went to on occasion, that was of course before I heard someone clunking around in the large closet that was parallel to the bed.

They were ruffling around and soon I saw them stand and come out into the open, I was prepared to fight them as they stepped out but at that very moment, I was too stunned to even form words.

"Puddin' is that y—," the woman stopped mid-sentence as she made eye contact with me. She was dressed in a red and black jumpsuit with two checkered prints on the sides to accentuate her figure.

Even with her blonde hair tucked into that red and black headpiece, and the black face mask, I knew exactly who was standing before me, and I couldn't believe my eyes.

"Harleen?" I ask dumbfounded, and she just stares back at me, just as shocked to see me as I am to see her.


	16. Chapter 16

"What hell are you doing here?" I ask her aggressively, she was the last person I expected to see here, much less wanted to see here.

She looked at me, still somewhat shocked and then smiled slyly. She removed her mask and took off her headpiece and stared at me with a cocky smile and responded,

"Well, you see, unlike you, I was asked to be here," she says nastily, her Bronx accent every prominent.

"By who?" I asked, already knowing the answer, but still not believing the circumstances. I had expected a lot of things over these past few hours, with the things I've done, the things done to me, not much surprises me anymore, but this was a shock that I was very unprepared for.

"Who do you think?" she fires back.

"Why, why are you even—what are you—oh my god," I stumble over my words.

I had a million questions for the woman standing before me, but they all paled in comparison to the sudden shock of the realization sinking in. I thought back to all those meetings with Mr. J, all those secrets of mine he knew, how he knew where I lived, who my father was, and so much more.

He knew too much about my life to have just researched it, and where would he get the time to do it, he was locked up in a cell. He had to have someone on the outside, someone feeding him the information, someone who had access to my office, someone who could report back to him.

"I see things are starting to click in that little brain of yours," she says, a slight smirk growing on the left side of her face.

"But how did you know—that was, the stuff he knew—" I started.

"You know, Hartley," she said, stressing my first name to annoy me,

"It wasn't hard as you think, you really shouldn't keep your journal on a computer. Granted it was password protected, but I minored in computer science in college, so, breaking in wasn't as hard as you might think.

And boy, was I surprised at what I read, all those nasty little secrets, those hopeful dreams, but imagine my surprise, when I read that first insert about my puddin'. How attracted you were to him on the very first day. It was quite the scandal really."

"But that's not possible, you didn't even know him, you sent me to him first because you thought he was going to kill you, just like the others, what did you get out of reading my journal?" I say, still trying to make sense of what was going on.

"Well, at first, I was snooping around your office, trying to learn more about you, you were always so secretive, and even though you'd only been there for two weeks I still wanted to know more about you, more than you were willing to share.

So, I did some digging and looked on your computer when you were doing your rounds. And when I hacked into your journal, imagine my surprise when I found out that you were into the patient that I gave you. The way you described him, the fire in your loins when you saw him, god, it was enough to get me hot enough to see what all the fuss was about.

So, in between the days where you didn't see him, I did. You see, Strange forgot to revoke my security clearance, so I could get to that level to see him. It started off as just a few conversations, but then he started making me feel things, my body was on fire when he would even look at me. I had to have him.

One night, I snuck into his cell, planned on it just being a onetime thing, I knew it was dangerous messing with him, but I didn't care. He'd been flirting with me too much, getting too excited, I couldn't help myself. And then he laid it on me, and I've had sex before, but nobody rocked my world the way he did.

He said things to me, did things to me that a man hasn't done in years, wasn't long after that when I fell for him." She said, still keeping her gaze trained on me.

"You were sleeping with him, with my patient?" I said through gritted teeth, the anger started to build in my stomach at her admission.

I looked around the room to assess my surroundings to make sure that I had ample room to do what needed to be done.

"Oh, not sleep, _fuck_. He fucked me long and hard, every single night. He was real ladies' man, knew all my naughty little fantasies. Then we hatched a plan to get him out of that nut house, and you were such a big part of that plan," she paused watching my expression.

I was angry beyond angry at this point, but I contained myself as best I could because I had to hear this. I hated this bitch more than anyone else in the world, I had no idea why until now, but I wanted her to keep talking because when I did kill her, I didn't want there to be any question in her mind as to why.

"What do mean?" I asked, feigning confusion.

"Well, the whole thing really, him pretending to care about you, leading you on, the works. I mean, the way you wrote about your dad, he was especially interested in that idea. Frankly, I didn't think you'd do it, off your old man.

I mean, mine wasn't going to win any Father of the Year award either, but I'd never kill him. I told him that too, but he was sure that you were so into him, that you would, that he pushed you just enough, you would.

And you did, pretty violently from what I heard. He told he wanted to break you, but I didn't think you were actually gullible enough to fall for it."

"So you were in on it," I say, laughing bitterly,

"This whole time, I thought I was just being an asshole, by not liking you. Thought I was just being mean, and this whole time, you've been plotting to destroy me."

"Of course I was, I mean, who'd you think was going to take the fall for helping him escape, who'd you think planted the bomb remote in your office, and who'd you think got your dear old dad checked out of the home.

Apparently, your old man's into blondes, and he wasn't hesitant at all to pretend like I was his daughter to get him out of that place. But the real question that I've always wanted the answer to, was, why?" she asked.

"Why what?" I asked again, deciding to indulge her.

"Why did you kill that girl, I mean, your father I could understand, but that girl, she didn't do anything to you. Sure killing her, would have gotten you respect for the boss man, but he didn't force you to do it.

I mean, were you really that desperate for someone to love you that you would kill an innocent girl?" she asked, clearly disgusted at the fact that I killed an innocent, and I just looked at her.

"So, that's it huh? You want to know why I killed her? I did it for him. You see, unlike you, Harleen, I'm willing to whatever he asks me, whatever it takes to gain his trust, his loyalty, his love, even if it means destroying myself or anyone else who stands in my way." I say darkly, slowly getting closer to her as I speak.

"Well you're not going to get it, he loves me, not you, you were just some fag that needed some attention, and he gave it to you. Now he's done with you, so let it go, and move on. You mean nothing to him, you are nothing, I don't even know how you're still here right now.

He just called me earlier and told me that he'd gotten his boys to take care of you, but you're like an infestation, you just won't take no for an answer." She states, slowly backing away from me, the closer I get to her.

"You know, the whole 'me being nothing' thing, is really starting to piss me off," I say through clenched teeth, my hands balling into fists,

"And those boys, oh, their dead, I killed each and every one of them, violently of course."

"What? That's—but you can't—but you're not," now it was her turn to stumble, she'd obviously not expected for me to say this, so I kept going.

"Yeah, dead, dead, and dead. I killed them all, along with the guards and if there were others, I would have killed them too. You see, that's what you do for people you love, anything. Kill anyone, or anything, that stands between you and thing that you care about.

It doesn't matter the price, it doesn't matter who, all that matters is that they aren't in your way anymore. You think you love him, you claim that you love him, but what have you done for him. What, give him some pussy when he was horny, been his little errand girl when he needed stuff done, warmed his cell bed when I couldn't.

But what else would do for him? You've got this silly get up on, trying to what? Be part of his gang, be his sidekick? Do you have any idea what that means, Harleen? I mean, have you ever even killed someone before, watched as the life left their eyes?"

She averted her eyes and looked down, clearly saying no as she continued to step back until she was against the wall, and I was getting closer and closer.

"It doesn't matter, I don't have to kill people, I could just—" she starts.

"Wrong!" I yell,

"That's what he is Harleen, a murderer. He kills people, men, women, children, and anything in between. Life doesn't matter to him, and in order to be his, truly his, life can't matter to you either. You see, that's the difference between you and me,

I would do anything, ANYTHING for him, and you, you can barely stomach hearing about me murdering some girl, let alone killing the growing baby inside her."

She looks at me with shocked eyes, clearly surprised by the answer.

"Oh, did Mr. J leave that out, yeah, you see that girl I killed, she was pregnant. A mother to be. And I snuffed her life out of existence, and her baby's, what about you? What would do for him?" I ask, she looks at me, clearly frightened, but then something else crosses her face, and I know that what's about to happen next isn't going to end pretty.

"I love him, with all my heart, and if killing people is what he wants from me, then that's what I'll do. How about I start with the pesky little gnat that keeps following him around like a sick puppy?" she says darkly, starting to step forward so that she and I are face to face.

"You know what Harleen? I really fucking hate you, but you know, you still owe me a pretty big favor for me helping you out back then, and I think I'm ready to collect. However, I will give you two choices, die, or get the hell out of way?" I say, my words coming out like venom from my mouth.

"Sorry, IOU's don't really hold that much weight anymore."

And just like that she pushes me against the bedpost, the action was so sudden that I didn't even have enough time to react before she kicked me in my already sore stomach. I clench it, and just as I am heaved over trying to catch my breath I see her foot try to come up and kick me in the face.

Before she can, I grabbed it and threw her onto the mattress. I push out the pain as I climb onto the mattress to try and punch her in the face, in that same instant, she grabs me by my shirt and throws me over the other side, and I crash pretty hard onto the hard marble floors.

"What you thought I was weak? Sorry Hartley, never wanted to be a rape statistic, and growing up in the Bronx, you either learned how to fight, or you'd be the victim," she said as she climbed off the bed, and lifted me off the ground.

Head still ringing from being thrown onto the floor, my reaction time was getting slower, looks like all the wear and tear my body went through today was finally catching up with me, at the worst time possible.

"I don't see what the big fuss about you was," she said as she pulled me closer and threw me into the wall across the room. As my back connected to the harsh concrete, I yelped out a little in pain.

"I mean, I may not have killed people, but it always struck me as odd at why he didn't just kill you when he was torturing you at the hospital, or when you came and interrupted his meeting with the boys," she said as she pulled me by the back of my collar, and drug me to the bedside.

I tried to struggle against her, but the fight in me was dying a little, this woman was a lot stronger than she looked and I was way too weak from everything that had happened to fight back. She was at one hundred percent at the moment and I was barely working at fifty.

She pulled me up to a standing position and kicked me in my back, I fell back to the floor in front of me hard. She walked around me and pulled me to stand again as she kicked me in the chest so I fell back onto the bed. At this point all the kicks to the stomach and chest were getting to be too much, I just couldn't move anymore.

I just laid there as she got a top me and straddled my waist. She put her small hands around my neck and started to tighten her grip, I looked at her as she did it, the woman I'd hated, the woman who'd taken so much from me, was about to take my life, and I was completely powerless to do anything about it.

Part of me didn't want to either. It wasn't about her being stronger than me, it wasn't even about her fighting with me being so weak, it was about the principal. She was who he wanted, she was who he chose, and I couldn't change that, so if I was going to die, at least I was dying knowing that I tried.

"God, you're so pathetic, I don't know what the fuck he saw in you, but none of that matters now, once I kill you, then I'll show him that I can be just as good as you, if not better. Always talking about you, about how he wanted to use you, about how he wanted to see how far he could push you, always talking about you, even when he was fucking me.

Well, no more, now I'm all that he's going to think about, all he'll ever need." She said as she tightened her grip, putting her weight into it.

I struggled to breathe under her, but she pushed harder, and then I focused on her words. What she said, that he was talking about me when he was fucking her, this comment, these words changed everything, and I felt my inner strength get renewed and gripped her wrist and yanked them from my neck.

To her surprise, I yanked her closer to me and head-butted her hard, and shoved her onto off of me and heard her tumble to the floor. I got up quickly and before she could try and get back to her feet, I kicked her in her stomach with all my might and watched her cough violently.

I kicked her again in her chest making sure to use as much weight as I could in each blow and watched her struggle to regain her composure. Then I kicked her directly in her nose, with all the force and anger I had in my body and watched her bleed.

"You were right Harleen," I start as she whines in pain, I kick her again and this time her back was against the wall and she wasn't able to even move anymore, just whimper,

"He was talking about me, always. You were just the hole he used in place of me. He used you as his escape, used you to erase me, but he couldn't, because I was still on his mind, even when he was inside you. He always wanted me.

You see, I thought that you got him, I thought that he wanted you, but you just made me remember why I did all this in the first place. Because I love him, and whether he wants to accept it or not, he loves me too.

He's just afraid of what people might think, afraid of not being in control of everything, and that's why he brought you into his life. He wanted to use you to block how he felt about me. I can't believe I didn't see it."

I look down at the woman beneath me, the fear in her eyes and I smile,

"The only thing left to do now," I said as I braced myself against the wall that I kicked her again,

"Is to remove the last thing blocking him from what he really feels."

Then I stomp her in her face again. I stomp again, and again, I knew she was dead after the first two, but I kept going. I stomped and stomped until I saw her skull crack. I stomped and stomped until my shoe was covered in her blood and parts of her brain.

I just kept stomping and laughing, I pulled her body from the wall so that I could use both feet and stomped on her again and again and again. I laughed and laughed and I felt myself breaking, I felt my mind cracking, I knew what was happening, I knew I was collapsing, and I just kept stomping.

It was like every stressor, every ounce of frustration I had felt in my entire life was all fading away. I felt as if I was freeing myself, freeing my mind, I felt nothing but joy and glee, it was an intoxicating sensation. I finally stopped stomping on the bloody pulp that was formerly Harleen's head and I walked over to the chest that was at the end of the bed and opened it up.

There were so many lovely little toys I could play with, but there was one in particular that really caught my attention, a wooden bat that had the words, _good night_ etched into it in red ink. I pulled it out of the chest and walked back over to Harleen's body.

"You know Harleen, you thought you were special because what, he 'chose' you?" I started as I started to slam the bat down against her legs and hear the satisfying crack of her bones breaking,

"Well, I got a little secret for you Harleen, love, isn't about choice, at least not real love," I say as I aim at her waist and bring the bat down again as hard as I could and heard the crack of her hip bone breaking,

"It's about sacrifice, being willing to give up any and everything, for the person you love, including yourself, and who were," I aim at her chest, and bring the bat down again with full force, _Crack!_

"What, you thought you were special, with that whole Bronx accent you got, well, newsflash, you don't have to be from the Bronx to have that accent, anyone can, even me," I say again, aiming for each of her arms, bringing the bat down again, _Crack!_

"I can sound like you if I wanted, 'Oh Mistah J, Oh puddin' are you there, are you home, what do you need from me honey bunches', see, not that hard," I say, feigning her accent, as I aim for the other arm, and wait for the satisfying _Crack!_

"You're not special Harleen, you were the one who was nothing, I was everything, I am everything, and you, you're just a splat on the floor," I say darkly, a dark laugh escaping my throat, then I hear the sound of the factory doors opening up, and I know immediately who was in the building.

"Shhhh, he's home, don't move," I say as put the bat back inside the chest in front of the bed, jump over her corpse as I run over to cut the lights in the room off.

I quickly rush over to the bed, taking off my shoes, careful not to mess up the sheets with her blood. I lay there seductively waiting for him to come through the door.

"Honey, I'm home, been waiting for you all night," Mr. J says as he walks up to the bedroom door frame, I see him about to turn on the lights and I yell out,

"Wait," doing my best impression of Harleen's voice as I could,

"I did something real nice for you puddin' and I wanted it to be a surprise for ya, but not until you come over here and give me some sugar."

"I'm not a fan of surprises Harleen, what is it," he says, apparently buying my impression, I continue.

"I know, but you'll love this one, I promise. Now come over here and show me just how much you missed me, oh and watch your step, I left some of your toys on the floor, don't want you to fall," I respond.

"Alright, I'll bite, love a good game every now and then," he walks closer to me, but then I get the best idea.

"Aw, who am I kiddin'? I want you to see your surprise right now, or more importantly, I want to feel it." I say darkly, a wicked smile creeping across my face.

"Make up your mind Harleen, what do you want," he says annoyed.

"I want you to figure out what your surprise is, just go on feel around on the floor in front of you, I think you love it," I say, trying to stifle a laugh,

"It's to die for."

"Fine," he leans down and starts to feel around, and he's nowhere near her body, so I have to give him some direction.

"You're ice cold, go a little to the left," he follows my direction,

"You're getting warmer," I say he's just at where her leg is supposed to be,

"Hot you're red hot!" I yell out and he starts to feel her body and starts to laugh.

"You killed someone Harleen?" he said, his voice filled with excitement,

"I didn't think you had it in you, fuck, you're making me hard, I can feel it, their body, it's still warm, their bones, you broke them, oh and the blood, I can feel it, so wet, so slick," he moans,

"I'm going to fuck you so hard when I get over there."

"You promise, Mistah J?" I ask, immediately forgetting that I was supposed to be pretending to be Harleen, the accent was still there, but she never called him Mr. J, I did, and as soon as I said it, I knew that my cover was blown.

Just then, he shot up to his feet and shut on the lights, and looked at the body he'd just been feeling up, he jumps back a little, surprised, and looks at me, and I smile.

"What the hell did you do?" He says, anger ever present in his voice as I watch him walk to me briskly before backhanding me. I grip my face at the sudden shock of his action and he slams me to the bed and soon he's on top of me, I feel his hands wrap around my neck and start to push.

"How dare you? You couldn't take no for an answer? You couldn't just leave it alone? I warned you not to come back, I warned you to stay away, and yet you're still here. You killed my men, mutilated my girlfriend's body, and—" at that comment, I wrapped my legs around his waist and flipped him so that I was on top of him now, and grabbed his arms in one hand and pinned him to the bed above him.

Even though I knew with his enhanced strength he could overpower me easily, but I wasn't thinking about that at this moment, I just hoped that I surprised him enough to where I could catch him off guard. Judging by his shocked expression, I knew I succeeded, and I punched him square in the jaw with my free hand and looked at him as I gripped his face.

"Don't. Ever. Call her that again. Do you understand me? Ever! She didn't deserve you! She was weak, she wasn't—she couldn't be your—" I say, the anger boiling in my chest was overflowing so much so, I could barely speak.

"What, girlfriend? That's what she was, my girlfriend," and just like that I punched him again, harder, and this time he looked at me, blue eyes piercing through me.

I knew that if I did it again this wouldn't end well, but it didn't matter, he was goading me and I wasn't going to just let him get away with it.

"You're mine! Whether you want me or not, I don't give a shit anymore. You can act like you hate me, act like I meant nothing, beat me, hurt me, it doesn't matter, because I'm all yours, till the day I die, you understand me?" I say my voice deadly serious.

He rips his hands from my grip and flips me back over so that he is on top and lift his balled fist into the air and I close my eyes and brace myself for the blow, but it doesn't come.

I open my eyes cautiously and look into his eyes, I see the anger, I see that he wants to hurt me, but there is something else there, something beneath the surface that I can't recognize.

"Tell me, Doctor, how badly do you want me?" he says, his voice returning to that playful tone again, his fist still in the air, but I can see it waver a little.

"More than life itself," I respond, my voice clear and resolute.

"You say that you're devoted, you say that you would do anything for me, well, Doctor, I have a proposition for you, one last test for you to show me, just how devoted you really are," he says cryptically, he finally puts his fist down and releases my arms.

"Anything, whatever you want, I'll do it, without question. Kill anyone, do anything. What is it, Mr. J? Tell me, I'll do it, I promise," I beg, reaching out to hug him, to touch him, but then he grips my wrist again and holds me in place.

"It's quite simple, I'd always considered myself an angel who was trapped on earth, one who knows the truth about mankind and their sins, and wasn't afraid to dull out punishment as I saw fit.

I was Castiel, powerful, dangerous, unpredictable, but I lost my wings. I fell from grace, and became the Joker, showing the world their sins in a much more enjoyable way. You say that you fell in love with me, is that true?" he asks.

"Yes," I respond.

"Then, fall."

_______________________________________________________________________________ 

The chemical smell that filled the large steel walls around me were so strong that it was actually starting to burn my nostrils. Mr. J and I were on the top of some railing, far above the pool of while steaming liquids that I had no doubt that the smell was coming from.

We were at ACE Chemicals, the place in which Mr. J became the Joker, the place that gave him his pale skin, his green hair, and some of his enhanced abilities. Doctors never quite figured out how he survived, the fall would have killed anyone else, but somehow he lived.

Now here we stood, in the same position that he'd stood several years prior. I looked over at the bubbling liquid and looked back at him, he smiled darkly and began,

"You have two choices, Doctor, two options only, is that clear?" he asked.

I nodded.

"For this one and only time, I will give you the option to leave, leave this place, leave Gotham, leave me. I won't kill you, but if you ever show your face in Gotham city again, I'll make sure I find you and kill you myself, slowly, and I mean it.

I'll make you suffer in ways you couldn't possibly imagine," he says darkly, the smile on his face growing darker with his gaze.

"The other option?" I ask, already, knowing the answer.

"You fall into the chemical vat beneath you and commit your life to me. Your skin forever stained in service to me, your body forever changed in devotion to me, and your mind, forever broken, forever connected to me.

Of course, that is, if you survive. I got lucky," he says jokingly, although his words are deadly serious.

"So you're saying that I could die if I fell in there," I turn and look down at the foreboding white liquid.

"The chances of you surviving are slim to none, but if you truly 'love me' the way you claim you do, that shouldn't matter should it?" he asks, playing on the words love as if it was just a joke to him. I saw nothing funny in that word.

"So those are my choices, die for you, or leave? Either way, I'm going to lose you forever." I say looking him in his eyes.

"The prices we pay for 'love' are often times, more than we can handle," he says darkly, and starts to laugh. I look over the edge and of the extended railing and walk to the edge of it, I look back at him and he opens his arms outstretched as if to say, 'you can always leave'.

I look him in the eyes and walk from the edge and walk up to him, staring him square in those beautiful blue eyes, and speak.

"You think I won't go, won't leave you behind. You think I won't pick up and leave Gotham, and pretend like none of this ever happened. Commit myself to a psych ward, get help, and restore my life to some version of normality.

You offer me a chance to go and atone for my sins, for what I've done, and you think I won't take that chance. You're wrong, I would." He looks at me and smiles bitterly as if expecting this answer. I bring my hand up to his face, and he pushes it away, in anger.

"Talk, talk, talk, but yet, I see no action," he says pointing to the stairs that would lead me to the exit. He turns away from me, and I place my hand on his shoulder.

"But just because I would, doesn't mean will." He turns but before he can face me I'm already running to the ledge, and without a second thought, without any hesitation, I leap from the top of the ledge and close my eyes.

I think back to everything that's happened to me these past few weeks, as I fall through the air. The people I killed, the lives I've taken, the friends I've lost. Everything was flashing before eyes, every bad decision, every mistake, every regret, all of it flashed before my eyes in a rush and I could barely handle the speed of the images I was seeing.

It was hard seeing Sam in my head, seeing his hurt expression when he watched me leave on the day I went to college, imagining his face when I ignored his calls when I pushed him away.

He was right, Harleen was right, my father was right, everyone was right. I was pathetic, I was nothing, and now I was going to make sure that they all got what they wanted. Even if this would kill me, even if I died, it didn't matter, because I was proving to everyone that I was strong enough to give them all what they wanted, what they deserved, my death.

I'd spent so much of my life trying to be what everyone else wanted me to be, spent all of my life trying to find someone to care about me, all of it, wasted when I could have just lived it with the person that was already in my life. My best friend in the whole world needed me and I turned my back on him.

The guy who I'd fallen in love with wanted me out of the way so much so that he offered me the chance to leave. A sociopath who enjoyed killing people with every fiber of his being would have actually let me live if it meant that I would leave him alone.

I was a disease to this world, I was unimportant, I was a nuisance. I meant nothing, and I was nothing, and now it was time for me to be nothing. The last thing that Sam needed was someone telling him that he was wrong for loving the Earth so much, the last thing Mr. J needed was a lovesick puppy who couldn't understand that no meant no.

But at least now I can prove to him that even though he couldn't love me back, no matter how much I wish he could, at least now he would know that I truly did love him. At least now Sam could live his life without a screw up like me as his best friend. It's better for everyone that I'm going to die.

When I finally fell into the acid, I felt my skin scream out in pain. I didn't fight it, I didn't scream out, I didn't even try to hold my breath. I didn't know how to swim, so it wasn't long before the acid started to fill my lungs and I could feel my body burning from the inside.

I could feel it burn through my clothes, the dye in my blue shirt starting to burn away, and I felt myself start to drown. Dying wasn't so bad, it hurt like hell, but soon, soon you don't feel anything.

Soon you feel the sweet release and there is no more struggle, no more pain, just silence.

_______________________________________________________________________________ 

The Joker looked over the edge at the man who'd just leap into the chemical vat below, he'd heard the thunking sound of his body hitting the acid.

He was more surprised than anything else. He'd expected for the man to leave Gotham, expected for him to spend the rest of his life pining after a man he was never going to have. It gave him some satisfaction at the thought, but even he couldn't hide his slight annoyance when the man actually considered leaving him.

He didn't understand why he was upset at what he thought was the man saying he was going to leave him. He wanted this, he wanted to get rid of him for killing Harleen, even though he didn't care for her at all, if anyone was going to kill her, he would. Seeing her dead, killed by the man's hands in jealousy, made him reconsider his reaction.

He was so upset when the Joker had called the girl his girlfriend, so angry that he actually hit him. He was going to kill him for putting his hands on him like that, but he was actually quite amused and turned on by the action. No one had ever been so forceful with him before, tested his boundaries, pushed him to the limit, but this man, Hartley, he did.

He pushed the Joker as far as he could, which is why he brought him to this place, the place of his rebirth. He wanted to see just how far Hartley would go to prove his loyalty and he'd succeeded.

He was turning to leave, to let Hartley drown, but something inside him, something that he hadn't felt ever in his life, made him stop dead in his stride. Hartley has done nothing but serve the Joker's will, he killed for him, fought for him, and would even die for him.

He hadn't told Harleen on the phone why it took him so long to get back there, it was because he'd circled back. Part of him wanted to know just how Hartley got away from his men, and the sight he was met with was the most breathtaking tableau he'd ever seen.

All four of his men were lying on there, two of his men were killed, including his guards, and one of them was still being torn apart by his pet hyena's.

He couldn't believe Hartley was able to accomplish such a feet and appreciated the savagery of his kills. He'd dated fellow murderers before, but half the time, they'd always bore him with the simplicity of their kills and he'd just end up killing them.

But Hartley, he wasn't just a killer, he was nearly as sadistic as the Joker. Especially when he saw what he did to Harleen. When he'd finally turned on the lights to see her mangled corpse, he didn't jump back in surprise, but in excitement. Her face was stomped to a bloodied pulp and most of the bones in her body looked as if they were savagely broken.

And the blood, it was everywhere, his floor was bathed in it, and he tried with everything in his might not to smile, that's why he'd attacked Hartley. He couldn't let him see how happy he was at the scene before him, he couldn't let him know how badly he'd wanted to fuck him. But the Joker wasn't gay, at least he didn't think so, but this man made his body scream otherwise.

He was tired of fighting this need, he was tired of pretending like he wanted the man dead because the truth was, he'd never met anyone this devoted, this in love with him before, and he couldn't just let that go, he wouldn't.

He owned this man, his heart, his mind, his soul, and now even his body. He was the Harlequin that completely his deck of cards, and he wasn't about to let him go that easily.

Reluctantly, against all his primal instincts, against his desire to watch people die, he'd ripped off his jacket and leaped into the vat after Hartley, he couldn't let him die, he needed him.

He hit the acid with a loud crash and swam down to find the man in the container, he looked at him, his skin paled and his hair had lost all pigment and being dyed blue by the color in the shirt. 

The Joker quickly grabbed his body and brought him to the surface as quickly as he could, some of the dye from his redshirt getting into Hartley's hair as well, and he brought him to the surface. He pulled him out of the chemical vat and carried him out and down the ladder that was on the side of the container.

He laid him on the floor and looked at the man, his skin was as pale white as the Joker's, the blue and red hues that highlighted his now platinum hair, and the bruises from the fighting he's had to do all day were completely healed. He was breathtaking and the Joker couldn't help but kiss him directly on his lips.

He'd never kissed a man before, not once in his life, but he did at that moment, and it was the most amazing kiss he'd ever had.

He began giving Hartley mouth to mouth, breathing into his lungs, trying to resuscitate him. He couldn't lose him, not now, not after he finally realized how much he wanted him, how much he needed him. Hartley sucking his dick was far from the last thing that he wanted to do with him, him jerking Hartley off was not the last sexual experience he wanted the man to remember.

He wanted to pleasure him in ways he'd never pleasured anyone before. He wanted Hartley to please him in ways that only Hartley could. He didn't want anyone but him, he had to wake him up, he had to bring him back, he tried but nothing seemed to work. He kept pushing his chest, trying to get Hartley to cough up the acid, but nothing seemed to work.

For the first time since he was twelve years old, he started to cry, it was odd for him, the feeling of tears streaming down his face was foreign. But he was afraid, he was going to lose the only person in the world who loved him, the only person in the world who he'd have this deep of a connection with, he couldn't lose him. He loved him.

"You can't leave me, Hartley. I can't lose you. You belong to me! You hear me!? You're mine, and I didn't give you permission to die, so wake up! You remember what I told you before, what I said about your name? Well, that's it, that's who you are.

You're my Harley Quinn, and you're not going anywhere. You said you loved me, prove it, right now, Harley. Right now! Please...please, wake up!" he screamed and the tears started to stream down his face even harder,

"I need you," he said.

His admission was more so to himself than to Hartley, and this brought on a new wave of tears. Part of him wanted to curse himself at displaying weakness, but the more present part of him knew that this was something he couldn't continue to hide from himself anymore. The man beneath him had slithered his way into what was left of the Joker's heart and set up residence.

Now, because of the Joker's fears, because of his apprehension, he was about to lose the only person that mattered to him. He looked at the man, the stinging sensation of tears mixed with acid feeling his eyes.

"Please, I don't...I don't want to be alone," he whispered to Hartley, his voice barely audible.   
_______________________________________________________________________________ 

I started to cough suddenly, I had no idea what was going on or what was happening, but I just kept coughing. I could feel the stinging of some liquid being spilled from my mouth. I knew it wasn't water, because it burned as it exits my body. I blinked hard and looked around, I was on a floor and I could see someone looking down at me.

They looked like they were crying and I blinked even harder and the person came into focus. It was Mr. J, he was looking into my eyes, and smiling, a real genuine smile. One filled with relief and joy, it was odd seeing him smile like this because he looked so innocent when he did.

And then out of nowhere he pulled me close and hugged me, it was so nice to be in his arms, and I realized that he was wet too, then the memories started rushing back. I was so shocked waking up that I completely forgot how I even got there.

I had jumped into that chemical vat, I could have sworn that I was going to die, at least I thought that was the plan. Then I realized who's arms I was in, who had been crying next to me, who'd been screaming for me to come back. It was Mr. J, he'd come back for me.

He finally pulled back and looked at me in the eyes, those beautiful blue eyes and he looked so sweet, I finally found my voice and spoke.

"I thought you wanted me dead?" I asked confused.

"Why did you do that? Why did you jump? I would have let you go? You could've gotten away?" He answered my question, with his own questions. I looked into his eyes which were genuinely confused.

There wasn't a lie present, no deceit, he genuinely had no idea why I made the decision that I did, and I leaned up to him and brought my hand to his face, he winced a little but allowed me to touch his cheek.

"Because I love you." I said plainly, he tried to turn away as if trying to say he didn't believe me, and I gripped his face and pulled it to me,

"I. Love. You." I said and I pulled him closer into a deep kiss. He was hesitant at first, but soon he gave into it and it was magnificent. It wasn't long before both of our bodies needed more than just a heated make-out session, but I still wanted to kiss him, I just wanted to feel his lips on mine.

I'd been dreaming of what they felt like, dreaming of what it would feel like to kiss him, and now I knew just how amazing it really felt. I watched him start to move from my lips and start to kiss me down my neck. I just laid there and allowed him to go to explore every exposed area of flesh on my body.

Thankfully, the acid seared off most of our clothes so there wasn't much fabric blocking our skin. He'd moved down to my nipple and started to suckle it and continued his descent to my stomach, and laid a kiss on each of my abs.

It wasn't long before he was down to my dick and he stopped, I looked down at him, about to tell him that he doesn't have to do what I really wanted him to do, but before I could even speak, he ripped off the last piece of clothing separating my dick from his mouth and took it in without a second thought. I was in heaven.

I could barely breathe, words can't even begin to describe how good it felt to have a man's mouth wrapped around my dick after so many years, and being that this man was Mr. J, made it that much more mind-blowing.

He sucked me like I was one of those lollipops with the gum on the inside, and he was trying with all his might to get to that gum.

He gripped my waist and sucked me harder and bobbed his head up and down like a pro. I was in awe at how good he was at this, most straight boys from what Sam used to tell me, would never dream of doing something like this and if they did, it was very unsuccessful and somewhat painful.

But Mr. J was a natural, I didn't feel one scrape, he didn't gag once, and I was pretty well endowed, sporting seven inches when fully erect, but that didn't seem to matter to him. It wasn't long before I was coming hard and long in his mouth and I could feel him swallowing it around me, it was such a beautiful sight.

But I was far from finished, the moment he pulled my dick out of his mouth to wipe his mouth I'd pushed him over and started to yank his dick out of his pants. He laughed and leaned back as I started to take his whole member as far down my throat as I could.

I couldn't be outdone by someone who'd never even sucked a dick before today, I didn't think so. I bobbed my head up and down and did every trick Sam had ever taught me about sucking dick.

Played with his balls, making eyes contact and making sure that hummed a little to give it some vibration. He was putty beneath me, and unlike the first time he just let me have my fun, he didn't try to reassert his control or face fuck me, he just let me show him a good time.

But I still wasn't satisfied yet, far from it, I stopped sucking him with a satisfying popping sound and he looked at me confused. I straddled his waist with my naked body, he started to smile wickedly when he realized what I was doing. I reached underneath me and grabbed a hold of his dick.

I led it to my entrance and started to sink down onto it. I cursed because it hurt like hell, I've only been penetrated twice, Sam said he wanted to try it, it was great and I enjoyed it a lot once the pain subsided, but he always preferred to bottom, so we just only ever did the two times.

So it had been a few years since my asshole had ever been filled like this, but part me was thankful because the look of Mr. J's face as I sank onto him, made the pain I felt at being stretched like this worth it.

Once I was fully seated on him, I gave myself a few moments to adjust to his member, which he did not object to seeing as though his eyes were clenched so tightly, no doubt trying to hold back his orgasm.

I was hard again immediately and soon I started to rock onto him, up and down, letting his dick slide almost completely out of me before falling right back down and I kept repeating this until he got angry and gripped my waist to keep me from going to high.

I laughed a little and moaned as I kept riding him, it was nice having him inside me, the pain was welcomed when he'd finally found that spot in me that sent me into direct euphoria. He looked surprised for a second when he'd heard me cry out in what he thought was pain and I looked down at him and smiled and told him to do exactly what he did again.

He did as he was told for the first time ever, and I thought I was about to die of happiness right now. It was amazing, every single stroke, every single swivel of his waist was perfection. I didn't even notice him flip me over and start to really show me what I'd been missing.

I moaned, no, I screamed in ecstasy, this was everything I'd ever wanted and I felt like I never wanted to be away from him again. I felt like every fiber of my being wanted to stay connected to him, just like this, for as long as our bodies were capable.

It wasn't long though before we were both approaching our climax, I saw his face contorted in pleasure, and his grunts getting more animal-like, his green hair fell into his face a little as he opened his eyes to stare into mine intently. The raw need in his eyes, the desire, the lust, all for me, was all that I needed and I was cumming, hard, onto both our stomachs.

I felt him jerk a little as the walls in my asshole tightened around his member after every spasm of my cum. Soon I felt him spill inside me, his hot semen coating my walls as he shook violently on top of me. I don't know how much he came inside of me, but I knew it was a lot because as soon as he was finished he fell atop me as if he'd just ran and marathon.

His chest was heaving hard as ever and so was mine, I pulled his face up to mine and took him into another kiss and he returned it weakly still stuck in the afterglow of his orgasm. After I finished kissing him, he laid his head back down on my chest and his breathing slowed as he started to go to sleep, while he still was inside me.

I pulled him up to me a little so that he was nestled in my neck and I could feel his breath on the nape of it. As if sensing it in his sleep, he wrapped his arms around me, protectively, and I felt myself doze off too. We were both sticky and messy, but none of that matter because we were together.

Finally. And I couldn't be happier.


	17. Chapter 17

I opened my eyes and stared at the body beneath me. Mr. J and I were back at his factory/home and I was laying on his chest while he slept. We'd only gotten back just a few hours earlier and I couldn't help but be giddy that I was waking up in his arms. I inhaled deeply at his scent, it was truly intoxicating.

A few weeks ago, I would have never imagined that I would be this close to Mr. J, let alone sleeping ontop of him as he held me protectively. It was so different seeing him like this, he looked so peaceful in his sleep, much like an angel. Of course, I knew otherwise, he may appear innocent and harmless, but he used that to his advantage.

I smiled as I nestled into his chest deeper, he smelt so clean after we'd taken that shower. Everything didn't just feel different, but it looked different too, I had no idea what those chemicals did to me, but it was like everything around me felt that much more enhanced.

I could see things more clearly, hear things I couldn't before, even smell Harleen's rotting corpse on our bedside.

Even my thoughts were much clearer, it was like bathing in those chemicals made me a new man, it was like for the first time in my life, I was truly living. Now, I didn't want to miss a thing life had to offer me.

I finally know who I am, finally have someone that wants and needs me, but there was one thing that was still missing, one thing that I still pined for. I knew what it was, and I knew I had to go and get it, but not before I took care of my first priority, I promised Mr. J I would show him things that he couldn't even dream of and I wasn't about to pass up on my promises.

I nestled myself underneath his neck and started to lick and suck at it, I could hear him stir slightly in his sleep, but it was more so moaning than anything else, he was still asleep.

I traveled down his body sucking and licking his chest, and laying soft kisses down his body. He was still asleep, but I knew he'd wake up once I started doing what I really wanted to do. I moved the covers off of us slowly to get a better view, and his pale body, the tattoos, all of them just made my mouth water profusely, but I had to pull it together because I had to get to my prize.

These next few steps are going to be crucial to what I need to do, I had to be extremely careful. I brought my head down to his member, it was already at full attention when I arrived and I looked up and saw him looking down at me deviously. I started to take his dick in my mouth and I felt him slide his hand down to grip my hair, but I swatted his hand away.

He looked at me, about to object, but just then I swallowed him whole. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, and I knew he was mine, but I was still on a mission. I sucked him for a few moments, bobbing my head up and down to make sure he was thoroughly aroused, so much so, that he didn't even notice me slowly take my mouth off of him to suck the sides of his shaft, and then to the base.

I jerked him as I started to suck on each one of his balls and watched him intently, his eyes were still closed, and I knew that it was either now or never. Just then I slowly slide his legs up until I was face to face with my prize, I saw the pale hole staring at me, winking at me at every stroke.

I felt him stir a little, and I think he noticed what I was about to do, but before he could react I stuck my tongue out and licked his hole with one long, wet swipe. I heard him yelp a little in pleasure and before he could come down from the surprise, I kept jerking him as I lapped around the surface of his entrance.

From his mewling and whines, I knew this was his first time having this happen to him, and I knew that he was thoroughly enjoying it.

I licked and licked, I had to make sure to get him nice and slick, then I started to push, I pushed with my tongue as hard as I could until it was actually inside his hole. To say that he was tight was an understatement, it took several licks, several strokes before he started to open up for me, and I could lick him longer and deeper.

He tasted amazing, no doubt from the acid and the shower we'd taken helping him out a little, he was as clean as a whistle which surprised me a little, considering he was a former straight guy.

But I lapped and lapped for a few moments before I started to combine both my tongue and one of my fingers, just as I was about to push my finger inside, I felt him pull away and look at me with death in his eyes.

"What exactly do you think you're doing?" he said, the anger in his voice accentuated the fierce anger in his ocean blue eyes.

I looked at him, doing my best imitation of innocence before pulling his dick into my mouth again, and made that popping sound that I knew would drive him wild. His anger wavered a little at the action.

"I was just trying to give you some new pleasure, Mistah J, I wanted you to feel just how much I wanted you, _all_ of you," I say, using Harleen's accent, even though I hated the girl, I couldn't help but slip into the accent, it seemed to fit, and I thought it was fun.

"No, what you were doing was trying to prepare me, trying to get me ready so that you could shove your dick in my ass, am I in the ballpark?" he asked, anger still in his sight as he sat up to meet my eyes head on, I shrug my shoulders and laid back on the bedside him, he turned to look at me.

"Can't blame a boy for trying, besides with an ass like that, mmmhmm," I said reminiscing on the memory that was already so fresh,

"Just tasting it was enough to get me going," I said as I bit my lip and started to jerk myself off a little. He looked at me, and I saw a dark smile flash across his face as he removed my hand and started to jerk my dick for me.

"You liked tasting my hole?" he asked as he started to suck my dick again and flipped around and straddled me in a way that his ass was in my face, and he was still sucking my dick.

I stared at the two perfect globes in front of me and felt him scoot closer until they were right in front of me,

"Then go on, have another taste,"

I did as I was told, he continued to suck my dick, and I spread those perfect ass cheeks apart and stared at that perfect winking rosebud and nestled my face in between his ass cheeks as I started to lick it, like it was the last time I'd ever get the chance to do it again.

I licked like my life depended on it, and it was amazing I heard him cry out a few times, I knew I was good at this, I did it to Sam multiple times and he never complained. I did every trick I knew possible, spelling my name, spelling his name, drawing out each letter of the alphabet and I knew that he was in heaven.

I stuck my tongue as deeply as I could in his ass until I was tongue fucking him, as hard as I could. I knew that even if I never got the chance to fuck him, I knew that I at least wanted to know what it was like to have some part of me inside of him.

I could tell that he was getting antsy, and soon he pulled away from me and without one word he got up from atop me and just as I was about to protest at losing my new favorite thing, he turned me to the side so that my legs were hanging off the bed. He stood facing away from me and I got a clear view of his perfect ass staring back at me.

"Don't say anything, don't do anything, and don't move, not until I say so," he said, his voice completely void of all humor, whatever he was about to do, he was determined.

He turned to look at me, and for the first time ever, I saw him look, dare I even think it, afraid. He didn't make direct eye contact he just moved closer to me until he was between my legs and then he turned around. He sat down and nestled my dick in between his ass cheeks and immediately, I knew what he was doing, why he was so afraid.

I was just about to open my mouth and say that he didn't have to do this, that eating his ass was enough for me, but the moment I'd taken a breath to speak he spoke,

"What. Did. I. Just. Say." He said. I silenced myself. He slid himself up and down, my dick firmly tucked between each of his ass cheeks and even if I couldn't stick it in, having my dick this close to his hole, feeling the heat of his ass engulfing my member was enough to make me want to cum right then, right there, but I held out and just let him experiment.

"I know you want to fuck me, I can't let you fuck me, not like that, not with me lying down," Just as he said I felt him put his hand behind his back, and grip my dick as he slid it to the tip of his entrance.

I couldn't believe it, I couldn't even fathom what was going on. Sucking his dick was one thing, him sucking my dick was another, him fucking me was about as far as I thought we'd go, but him letting me fuck him, that was a whole other level I had no idea even existed, let alone one I thought I could reach.

He started to push me into him and slide down, if I thought his hole was tight before, this was a whole other level of tight that I was not even prepared for. Sam was tight, but he always prepped before we did anything so it was always a comfortable fit. Mr. J didn't prep, and I was positive that my tongue was closest that anything or anyone has gotten to his ass.

So when he started to sink down onto, engulfing my dick slowly, but surely, I felt like I was about to cum immediately, the only way to keep me from exploding was thinking about my father, that did the trick. I felt him wince in pain and I wanted more than anything to caress him, to tell him it was okay, that if it hurt too bad we could stop, but he told me to do something, so I obeyed him.

I wanted to look at his face, I wanted to make sure this wasn't hurting him. I licked his ass pretty well, and he sucked my dick, but I didn't know if that was going to be enough leverage to ease the way.

But he was determined, and he kept sinking until he was fully seated and he just sat there between my legs, his back facing me, his head down, and then after a few minutes that felt like an eternity, he started to move.

The first time he moved, he lifted up and slid back down, I started to feel myself tear up a bit, this was amazing. I couldn't believe how vulnerable he was being right now, how raw he was being, but most importantly, how open he was to me.

It was only a few weeks ago that we'd met and in that short time, he'd not only let me do all these things to his body, but he was letting me inside his body. He was letting me feel his body in a way that no one ever has before and I couldn't help but be thankful.

I proved to him my loyalty, I proved to him my devotion, and even though he couldn't say he loved me. Every time he slid up and down on my member I knew that was this was his way of saying it to me. It was his way of showing me that I wasn't the only one in this relationship that was vulnerable.

He started to bounce on my dick and his subtle wines of pain subsided and I could tell that he was starting to enjoy it. I knew that it wouldn't be long before I came, so even though he told me not to move, I had to get him off before I was too far gone.

I wrapped my arms around his waist and gripped his dick and started to jerk him. I could tell that he was about to say something about me not doing as I was told, but he was too lost in bliss to notice because the moment he opened his mouth to speak, I hit that spot that I was working so hard to find when he was on me.

He yelped out in pleasure and I held him as I directed his body in the way that would get that same reaction. I hit it again and I started to jerk him harder, and soon I heard him scream out as his seed spilled out into my hand.

Just then I came hard and violently in his hole, not only was I already in bliss, but the spasms of his orgasms made him tighten around me to the point where it was unbearable and I couldn't hold back anymore.

Just then I started to cry into his back. He got up from me slowly and turned to look at me confused. I just kept crying.

"What's wrong? What happened? I thought you enjoyed it?" he asked, clearly puzzled.

"I did, that's why I'm crying. That was—I'd never—that was the best sex, I'd ever had in my entire life, I'd never cum that hard before, that long, it was phenomenal, it was perfect. You're perfect. You're just so amazing, I love you, Mr. J, I love you so much," I croak out and he just looks at me and comes closer and kisses me against my lips, I give into his mouth and his tongue battles mine in my mouth.

Even without him actually saying it, I knew that that kiss meant, _I love you too_. He pulled away finally and smiled darkly.

"Don't get used to it though, I'm still fucking you every chance I get, understood? But that doesn't mean that once in a while, once in a long while, we can't switch things up," he said, I smiled and nodded excitedly. Even if it only happened once in a blue moon. His ass was very much so worth the wait.

He walked over to the other side of the bed, but not before kissing me one last time,

"I've got a few things to get straightened out, so I'll be out for a while, thanks to you I've got to find new guards and three new sergeants to keep the others in check.

And now I've got to call the backup cleaners to get this mess off the floor" He said annoyed as he pointed to Harleen's dead body. He may have been annoyed but I knew part of him was proud.

I watched him get dressed and I walked over to the closet I saw Harleen fumbling around in when I first saw her in here. I pulled one of his boxers out of one of the drawers in the closet, because I fell in acid, all my clothing was seered off and we didn't exactly have enough time to stop by my house to get some extra clothes.

I looked at one of her hangers and saw that there were some fishnet stockings hanging on what was actually not that bad of an outfit. I pulled the fishnets and slid them on and noticed there was a pair of blue and red shorts that were on the hanger as well, red on one side, blue on the other. It complimented my new hairstyle perfectly, so I shimmied those on as well, on top of the stockings.

I saw a shirt that said _Daddy's Little Monster_ and pulled that over my head onto me as well. It didn't quite fit so a lot of part of my stomach was exposed which I didn't mind. I saw some yellow Timberland boots on the floor and the closet, I put on a pair of the socks that were in her suitcase and put the boots on.

I pulled out her eyeshadow pallet and her red lipstick and walked over to the mirror. I smeared some of the blue and red eyeshadow on both my eyelids, red on the right, blue on the left, and smeared it down a little like a streak. Then I put some of the red lipstick on and gave it a smear so I could have a streak down the side as well.

I looked at it and thought it was missing one last touch. I went back over to her suitcase and low and behold I found exactly what I was looking for, two chain bracelets, a cute red and blue jacket, and a choker.

Harleen may have been a horrible person, but she had some good taste. I walked back over to the mirror and smiled at the image before me, I looked punk rock and I was loving it.

Apparently, I wasn't the only one who was digging my new look, because Mr. J had stopped dressing and walked behind me and smacked me on the ass before wrapping his arms around my waist and nestling his head in the nape of my neck. He inhaled my scent, and I smiled,

"So, you know where I'm going, but where are you off to, looking this good, you should know, I'm not big on sharing what belongs to me," he says, the sheer possessiveness in his statement, nearly making me want to drop to my knees all over again and forget what I was supposed to be doing.

"Nowhere special, just have some unfinished business," I say to him, as I smile at the image of me wrapped in his arms reflected in the mirror.

"Oh, do you need some help?" he says still wrapped in my arms, at his question I pull away and turn to face him, not breaking our physical contact in the process.

"Actually, I'm going to need a few things before I go," I say.

"Like what?" he asks.

"A machine gun, two handguns, and a pocket knife," I say as sweetly as possible.

"A machine gun?" he asks, raising an eyebrow, I smile at up at him looking as innocent as I possibly can.

_______________________________________________________________________________

Being on the dirt path to Arkham felt entirely different now, the first time I stepped walked up to this building I was afraid, weak, and alone. Things were different now, I was different. Instead of my signature button-up, with my khaki slacks, church shoes and lab coat, I was wearing a different uniform altogether.

And this time I had extra equipment to ease the transition, my machine gun strapped to my back, my two handguns neatly tucked into my tight shorts, and the pocket knife I'd asked for tucked into my boot. I was ready for war.

Thankfully, Mr. J had silencers put on my guns so that when I started shooting it wouldn't be too obvious. I'd already killed the two guards that usually stood in the front of Arkham and moseyed up the path, I'm sure Mr. J was hoping I would keep a low profile, but ever since I fell into that chemical vat, I've been feeling a bit theatrical.

The moment I burst through the front doors in Arkham and saw my two favorite people manning the desks, I just knew I had to show them just how much I missed them.

It was Thomas who looked up first, and then Barbara, but before they could dial any number or sound an alarm, I pulled my two handguns from my waist and shot them both in their arms. Both of them yelped out in pain and fell to the floor behind them.

I yipped in excitement as I leaped over the counter with one hand lifting my body over in one swoop and landed right on top of Thomas. He looked at me with shocked eyes, and I couldn't help but laugh when I saw his face contort in recognition and surprise. He looked so helpless and I could do nothing but smile.

"What's the matter Thomas, no witty remark," I say as I start to punch him in the face repeatedly, 

"No comment on my outfit, I got all dressed up, looking extra faggy today, and what no compliment, no insult, I'm offended," I say in mock surprise as I continue to land blows over and over again, his blood was starting to coat my knuckles and I loved feeling the warmth of it wash over my hands like warm water.

I was so immersed in beating him, that I didn't even notice that Barbara was still trying to struggle a little to get away, and I turned to look at her, as she tried to clutch her arm trying to stand, and I pulled to pocket knife out of my pocket and aimed it at the tendon on the back of her foot and threw it.

I surprised myself at the accuracy of the throw and she screamed out in pain as she fell back to the floor. No matter how much I wanted to sit here and make each one of them suffer, I knew that time was running out. So, I turned back to Thomas, and put one of my handguns in his mouth,

"See Thomas, it's not so bad having something big and hard in your mouth, now is it?" I ask, and he whimpers a little, I can see the tears stream down his cheeks and I knew that if he could speak he'd be begging for his life, and that thought made my eyes widen in satisfaction,

"Tell me Thomas, how many licks does it take to get my gun excited let's find out, one," I said as I force it farther down his throat and pulled the trigger, there was a slight puffing sound of the silencer, but the blood on the ground behind his head notified me that the deed was done.

"Huh, guess one was enough," I said sarcastically, as I turned to a still struggling Barbara trying to pull the blade from her tendon without causing it to bleed out,

"Oh, here let me help you with that," I say as I grip her hand to push the blade further in and then snatch it out ripping her tendon entirely and hear her shrieking out in pain before I slammed her head against the desk leg and snapped her neck. I stood up and started to clean out my ears,

"God, all that shrieking, so annoying," I say to myself as I press the unlock button to walk down Arkham's hallways one last time. As I approach the door, I see the frantic panicking of my fellow coworkers, having heard the screams from just a few moments prior and pulled my machine gun out and started to let loose as I shoot as many of them that were in my way.

It was quite amusing seeing all of them squirm and those who thought they would make it lose, it was hilarious. They all scrambled and ran like cockroaches from the light. It was a magnificent sight. I killed about six of them before the rest scrambled to get away, I still injured a few of them too, part of me wanted to go back and get each and every last one of them, but I was on a mission, and I didn't have much time left before the alarm sounded.

I put my machine gun back into the gun holster on my back, and walked to my office and opened the door, I went to my desk and fumbled open a few of the drawers until I found what I was looking for, the bluish liquid in the needle was still there and I quickly pocketed it as I walked back down the hall towards the hall until I made it to Section C.

I typed in my pin code and to my surprise it still worked and the steel doors opened for me again. I walked down the long hallway and walked to the stairs, but not before I heard someone calling after me,

"Hey cool breeze, just what are you up to down here?" the unnaturally affected voice asked. I turned to face him and was met with those same icy white eyes looking at me deviously.

"What's the matter, Frosty? Don't recognize me?" I ask him sauntering up to the plexiglass separating the two of us and I looked into his eyes and he furrowed his brows as if trying to get a better look at me, and then I saw the recognition in his face.

"Snowflake?" he asks, disbelievingly.

"Not a snowflake anymore, cutie, now I'm a full-blown blizzard," I respond seductively, and just then I hear the ringing sound of the alarm going off and I am brought back to what my mission was from the beginning.

"Shit, I've got to go, oh but before I do, you might want to duck," I hear the keypad on the other side of the steel door being used and I know that the guards have been alerted to my presence, the clock was ticking.

Frost looked at me confused and I hold up my handguns to the glass and he falls to floor covering his head as I let loose a few rounds to shatter the glass in between us. It took a little more than I expected, because of the reinforcements, but it broke through and I saw him stand and he bawled his hands into a fist as they started to smoke with his cold mist.

Just then the steel doors had opened and the Arkham guards were just about to draw their weapons on me, just as I was about to remove my machine gun from its holster, I saw a flash of white mist shootout in front of me and just like that there was a large ice wall in front of me that protected me against the bullets that were being released.

I looked over to see a smiling Killerfrost gently putting down his misty hand and smiling at me, I look over to him,

"Thanks," I smile.

"Consider it instant payback for you breaking me out that thing," he said pointing to the plexiglass shards on the floor,

"It feels like I haven't used my powers in forever."

He walks to the ice wall, and holds his hands up to it looking as if he's about to push it, and stops to look at me,

"Go ahead, do whatever it is you're about to do, I'll kill these ones, but after that you're on your own," he says and I nod as I turn to leave he stops me with his words one more time, "oh and I wasn't joking about the whole 'icepick' thing.

If you make it out of here alive, come find me, you'd be amazed at how satisfying an icy cold blowjob can be? Really gets you going," he flirts.

I smile darkly, and pout my lips,

"As tempting as that offer may be, my naughty bits belong to someone else now, sorry."

"Damn lucky guy, well if you ever decide to leave him, look me up, for you, my dear snowstorm, my legs are always open," he says seductively.

"Don't you mean doors?" I tease back.

"You heard what I said," he says finally and turns back and pushes against the ice wall, and just like that it shatters and the force of the icy wind blew the guards back.

He thrust his hands and ice shards started to fly from his hands killing all six of the guards that had come through, he turned and looked at me,

"Well don't just stand there, go!" he said as he started to run towards the steel doors killing any guards that dared to get in his way. Even saw him freeze one of them solid, I stopped admiring his handiwork with envy and walked down the stairs to the basement level.

Once I turned the corner, I saw Sam look up from examining his nails and he stared at me in disbelief,

"Dean? What are you—why are you dressed like—what happened to your ski—" he started shooting the questions out at me and at this moment I didn't have the time to answer because we were still on a race against the clock, and since the alarm sounded I knew that there wasn't much time before others were on their way.

I pulled my machine gun from my back and aimed it at Sam's glass chamber door, and before he could react I started to fire, he ducked immediately like I knew he would and I fired off as many rounds as I could, but the chamber didn't seem to budge.

"Dean!" he screamed out in the middle of me firing, but I ignored him, he called after me again, but I continued firing. The glass didn't even see to yield or even look as if I was making any form of a crack in it whatsoever.

"Son of a bitch," I say to myself and Sam calls after me again, and I finally acknowledge him,

"What?!"

"It's bulletproof glass, moron! It doesn't matter how many times you fire at it, it won't budge," he said finally seeing that it was safe and stood up to walk up to the glass and knock on it as if for dramatic effect.

"But the other's weren't bulletproof," I said confusedly.

"Yeah well, they didn't force three guards to use their weapons to shoot down the glass barrier, therefore causing Arkham to invest in a special, bulletproof chamber made for someone of my particular skill.

The only way to get me out of here is from some passcode they put into that pad over there with my name on it, and it requires at least three biometric prints before it will even unlock, and six different pin codes before it op—" he continues but is abruptly cut off by me riddling the pad with bullets and hearing the sparking of electricity that indicated that it was severely destroyed.

He looked at me with a mix of shock and anger in his eyes and I smiled.

"Did you really think that shooting it would make it open up, it's not that easy Dean, do you not think they would have built up protection against an attack like—" just as he was about to finish his rant, there was a subtle hissing noise as the glass chamber started to open up and Sam looked around as he stepped on the outside of his walls, clearly in disbelief at the fact that it actually worked.

Granted, I had no idea if it was going to work either, but I was kind of tired of him talking about biometrics, and all that other crap, I just hoped that shooting at it would fix it, and it did. I suppose that means that violence is sometimes the answer.

Sam inspected his hand for some reason and looked at me with a devilish grin, his eyes had become completely black. He clenched his right hand into a fist and I felt the quaking of the earth beneath me as vines cracked through the concrete and wrapped around my arms and legs and opened his hands suddenly with the back of his hands facing me, and I felt the vines spread me out the way in which his hand was spread.

And he brought his hand closer to his body and I could feel the vines bringing me closer to him as well, and he smiled darkly, his eyes still black voids.

"Big mistake Dean, big mistake." he says as a vine starts to wrap its way around my neck threatening to choke the life out of me,

"I told you that I never wanted to see you again, and yet you're still here. Guess that means that I'm going to have to kill you now, doesn't it?"

I look into his eyes and say nothing, and his smile wavers a little.

"Any last words before you die? Or better yet, give me one reason why I shouldn't choke the life out of you right now?" he asks, the anger in his voice prevalent and the vines on my body tighten.

"I don't have a reason, Ivy. If you're going to kill me, kill me. Stop with the movie villain monologuing and get on with it, I've got no regrets." I respond, and he looks at me, and even with his eyes as black as coal, I could see the hurt and anger he felt at my statement.

Just then he lifted his hand jutted his palm out against my chest and even though he didn't physically push me, the vines threw my body back onto the hard brick wall on the other side of the room. I was waiting for the blow of pain to hit me once my body connected to the wall, but when my back connected to the wall there was only a slight pang of discomfort, as I hit the concrete.

It looks like that little chemical bath I took, changed me a little more than I cared to admit, either my pain receptors were severely damaged or my body was a lot tougher. I still cried out a little though, it may not have hurt, but I still had to make Sam think it did.

Just as I was trying to stand I saw Sam walk up to me with his hands clenching into fists again and the vines returned to pull me into the air again, and he looked at me with fury,

"What you mean you can die with no regrets?! How dare you?!" he screams out, the anger present, but only to mask the pain that I knew he was fighting with everything in his power to keep at bay.

"You misunderstood what I said Ivy, I don't regret anything, because I have nothing left weighing on me. No unfinished business, unspoken apologies, everything I wanted, I've got. So yeah, I'm happy, no regrets, kill away," I say smiling.

I expect him to throw me against another wall, but instead he walks up to me and smacks me across my face, hard, when I turn to look back into his eyes, they are no longer black, but the unnaturally green color they are normally, and I can see the pain even more visible with his eyes returning to this shade.

"Did I really me so little to you? You don't feel like you owe me anything? No apologies, nothing?" he asks me, the seduction absent from his voice, the anger faded as well, the only thing I could hear was the pain, he sounded so much like the Sam that I knew remembered.

But that wasn't who I was here for anymore, I didn't want Sam back, I was here for Poison Ivy and I had to make him understand that.

"I've offered apologies to Sam, but the truth was, he never deserved them, you want to know why," he looked at me, a mixture of confusion and anger in his expression, but being that I didn't feel the vine on my neck tightening to strangle me, I knew that he was going to allow me to speak,

"Because I don't owe him one. Sam, he was my best friend for years, we did everything together, we loved each other, and we promised each other that no matter what happened between the two of us, we'd always stay together, no matter what. But I broke that promise, the moment I left him behind, I broke that bond that we'd worked so hard to build.

But the truth was, it was Sam who broke that bond with me, not the other way around. You see, I was a horrible friend, and an even worse pretend brother. I don't deserve his forgiveness or acceptance, and I don't want it. Not anymore. You want to know why?" he looks up at me still confused.

"Because that Sam doesn't exist anymore. The Sam I hurt all those years ago, is gone, forever, and I don't have the power to bring that Sam back, and I don't think I would even if I could.

That Sam, he could never forgive me, never restore the bond he severed by not taking me back, but you, Ivy, you have the power to undo all of that. You see, Sam, made his choice to hate me forever, but Ivy, you don't have to.

I'm not a good person Ivy, I've made some really bad mistakes in my life, and will probably make a lot more in the future. I can't promise I won't hurt you again, just like you can't promise you won't hurt me either, but I can promise you one thing.

No matter how much you hate me, no matter how much I might have hated you, that still doesn't change the fact that you're my best friend. And no matter how mad we get at each other, no matter what name we go by, Harley Quinn, Dean, Sam, or Poison Ivy, in every incarnation, every world, you will always be my best friend.

Whether you like it or not Ivy, you're stuck with me, and I'm not going anywhere, you hear me. So if you going to kill me, get it over with already, because even if I'm dead, that won't change anything. You will still be my best friend, my first love, and my little brother."

He looks at me his eyes growing black and I can feel the vines tightening around my neck and they grow tighter. I see the rage in his eyes, and I thought it was over until he clenches his fist and then throws his hands to the side and just like that the vines released me and I fell to the floor in front of him coughing and trying to catch my breath.

I look up at him and he falls to his knees tears streaming down his face and I can tell I broke through. He wraps me in his arms and I embrace him in return, it wasn't Mr. J, but it was Sam, and that was just as reassuring. We held each other tightly and he cried into my neck and I heard him say in a croaked, tear-filled voice,

"I hate you so much," and I pet his hair and shushed him,

"I know, I know, I love you too," I say, knowing that was what he was trying to say, just then I heard footsteps coming down the stairs and I saw the chemical to suppress Ivy's powers start to come through the ventilation system in the air around us, he pulled away from me and looked around quickly,

"Shit they're coming and they turned on the vents, I won't be much help to you for much longer, I'll hold them off as best I can, go hide and while they're focused on me you go and—ouch" he yelps out as I stab him with the syringe and push the blue liquid into his body.

"I appreciate the sentiment Ivy, but I didn't come all the way here, risk my life to get you, only to watch you be put back into a cage," I said and I watched as the blue liquid spread through his veins with a black pulsing spreading until it reached his eyes and they turned that all black shade and he looked at me confused.

The chemical finally was immersed in the room and just as I was hoping Ivy stood there as strong as ever, clearly unaffected by the chemical's power dampening effects. Soon the men were in the room and for a second time, I tried to draw my weapons and noticed that all the men that entered the room were not wearing gas masks, clearly hoping that the chemical would subdue Ivy, but was surprised to see him standing before them.

The four men tried to pull their weapons, tried to subdue him, but for some reason, they all lowered their weapons and just looked at him as if he was some type of siren.

He took one of the men in his hands and asked him,

"Do you want me?" the man nodded, furiously in his hands,

"Do you want me to give you a kiss?"

"Please," the man begged as if he needed Ivy's kiss more than breathing. He comes in and Ivy plants a long kiss on his lips and I watch the man shake because as soon as his lips made contact with Ivy's his skin started to become pale a sickly shade of green and the moment Ivy let him go he crumpled to the floor, lifeless and wide-eyed.

He looked at the other three men who were still mesmerized by him, not even taking notice of the fact that he'd just killed one of their partners.

"Now be good little security men and go kill your other friends, and when you're done, kill each other. Whoever is left standing, gets to give me a big kiss," he says seductively and the men all nod excitedly and hurry up the stairs I hear the gunfire almost immediately and look at Ivy in surprise.

"Damn, Ivy how did you that?" I asked, very much so impressed.

"My skin emits pheromones that make me irresistible to nearly every living creature, but usually I can only convince them to do things, but sometimes, if they're close enough, I can somewhat control them temporarily.

The longer I'm out of their presence, the weaker it becomes, and soon they begin to follow their own wills again. Although, that should buy us some time to get out of this hellhole. But hey, how did you counteract the chemical they spray in here to temporarily sever my connection to the Green?

It would have taken you at least four weeks to pull out the proper chemical agents that would not only block out the effects of the gas but give me immunity to it." He asks confused.

"That's exactly what I did," I answer honestly. The moment that I saw that chemical could do to my friend, I knew I had to find some way to counteract it in order to protect him.

I'd been working on it nonstop in my downtime, along with working on his file and Mr. J's. Thankfully, not having a life in college made me take on a lot of extra activities, like taking some extra chemistry classes, and not having a life as an adult, made me learn how to do the proper research to learn how to create the formula that would successfully counteract the effects while rendering him immune as well.

"You've been working on this since then?" he asks, touched.

"Well, of course, Ivy, even when I wanted to turn you back into Sam, I knew that I didn't want people hurting you, let alone trying to take away your powers.

Even then I knew how important your powers were to you, I didn't want you to lose them." He smiles at me and then looks up the stairs and grabs my arm, and we run up the stairs together.

"Come on let's go, we don't have much time before—" Ivy starts, just then a guard sucker punches him across the face and pulls him up choking him. Before I could react, I feel a guard come from the side of me and yank my arms behind my back trying to cuff me and another guard standing in front of me getting ready to punch me as well.

I was really getting tired of having someone grip my hands around my back, and I used the guard behind as leverage again and used my feet to climb up the guard in front of me and kick him in the face as I flip behind the guard who was originally behind me and yank the cuffs on his neck as I break his neck in the process.

The other guard who was about to come back up to me to try and shoot me was suddenly impaled with what looked like a tree like a hand bursting through his chest. At first, I thought it was Ivy, but he was still having the life choked out of him by that guard. I was about to get up and kick him in the side when another tree hand came from nowhere and cut the guards head clean off his shoulders. And both the hands retract and the two guards bodies fall to the ground beneath us.

I look at Ivy, "Did you do that?"

"If you didn't notice, I was more focused on trying to breathe, so no, I didn't even get the chance to do anything, asshole caught me off guard," he said angerly.

"It was me," we both looked at the swamp like figure that stood before us, the man or thing that looked very much so like a man, but in the place of skin was vines had answered back,

"I apologize for intervening, it just appeared as though you needed protection, and I was able to assist, so I did," even though he said this to the both of us, he was staring at Ivy the entire time he'd said it and I knew that he wanted to say that he was protecting him.

Ivy always had a way about him and with his powers, he was even more enticing, although what surprised me most was the look I saw on his face when he looked at the swamp-like creature.

He was smiling and not the devious, seductive smile he saved for his victims, but a genuine one that looked more so like a teenager seeing their high school crush for the first time.

"And just who might you be?" Ivy asked, his voice somewhat breathless, I think that he was actually nervous, which wasn't common for Ivy, at all.

"Swamp Thing, an agent and warrior of the Green, and you?" he responds. I smile inwardly at the fact that I was dead on with his name even before I had said it. What surprised me though was this whole Green thing, I'd accepted Ivy for who he was, but I still didn't but the whole Green thing being a sentient entity until this guy said the exact same things to Ivy, no wonder he was all hot and bothered.

Part of him must have to know that this man was somehow connected to the same force that gave him his powers as well. Before I could think about it any longer though, I saw about ten guards rounding the corner weapons drawn, and just as Swamp Thing and I were about to ready ourselves to fight again.

Ivy stepped in front of the both of us raised his hands, and just like that vines were coming from all sides of the walls and tearing into all the guards bodies before they even got the chance to fire. Ivy had snared all of their bodies and yanked their bodies apart, pieces of each of them dangling from the ceiling like bloody Christmas ornaments. Swamp Thing looked at him, obviously startled at the display of his powers.

"The name's Poison Ivy, also a long and faithful servant of the Green, and in no need of any man's protection," he smiles and looks at the man like creature seductively and he looks at Ivy returning his hungry gaze. I hear the more men approaching and I pull Ivy alongside me quickly.

"Sorry, gotta go, trying to get out of prison and all so nice to meet you, have a great escape," I say pulling a reluctant Ivy alongside me as he used his other free hand to wave at Swamp Thing and mouth the words, 'Call me' to the creature as he winked at Ivy before returning to kill the incoming guards.

"Really Ivy, Swamp Thing, he's not even human for what I could tell?" I ask confused as I hurry down the hall.

"That's kind of the point, plus just like I told you before, about my skin, I appear as I choose. That's what he truly looks like when he's in his Green mode, but when he does look human, he's quite attractive," he says in a daze.

"You got all that from a one-minute conversation," I asked again, still confused.

"There's much about the Green that you don't understand Dean, it's not just a power I have, it's a force that I am connected to.

So when I meet another with a connection similar to mine, we see more than just what's on the surface, and what the Green showed me about this creature, was that our destinies will soon be intertwined.

We're going to do great things together, just you wait and see," he says cryptically.

"Yeah, great things in the bedroom," I mumble, as I look down the hall to make sure there are no other guards in our path.

"What did you say?" he asks.

"Nothing," I respond, and I pass by a cell of a guy standing in a corner and something stops me dead in my tracks. I look back at the man in the cell that was the only one in the wing that was bars instead of plexiglass.

He looks at me clearly confused at my interest, even Ivy looks at me for a second confused.

"Hey, you know people are escaping, right? As long as you can hold your own you could probably get out of here too," I say, trying to make sense of why out of all the cells in this section, was his the only one that didn't have special accommodations to it, but he was still classified as a metahuman.

"Unlike the others, I don't have the kind of brute force it takes to take to knock my cell down.

For me it requires a bit of finesse and though I have plenty to spare, no one has come close enough for me to sink my claws into yet, not until now," he walks to the bars and looks at me threateningly, the man standing in front of me was so innocent looking with the exception of a few features that looked cat-like hazel eyes, razor-sharp nails, and hair as black as a raven.

He looked like he'd pounce on you given the chance and immediately without even looking at his identifier pad, I knew who was standing before me.

"Hey, aren't you that cat man? Or was it cat boy?" I ask.

"It's Feline now, Catman didn't stick," he responds sarcastically, clearly annoyed by the question and recitation of his old name.

"Well, I'm Harley, Harley Quinn, and this is my friend Poison Ivy," I introduce us to him, I don't know why I liked him, or why I was even saying this to him, but I just couldn't help it, he was just so entertaining to look at.

"Hi," he says confused.

"Hi, can we leave now Harley, it's not like we have all the time in the world now do we," he says and I remember the fact that we are still in the middle of an escape.

"Oh that's right, sorry Catma—I mean Feline, we'll have to talk some other time, but for now," I shoot at the name pad just as I suspected the cell door opened with a loud _shink_ sound and Feline stepped out and looked at Ivy and me and I smiled,

"You can get away, and have some real fun."

"I just threatened you and you open my cell door?" he asks still apparently surprised by my reaction.

"Yeah, I did, you seem nice," he looks at me and suddenly he looks to the side and reaches down and pulls my pocket knife from my boot, which I completely forgot that I stuffed back in there, still bloodied after I stabbed Barbara, and it happened to be sticking out of my boot leg.

He threw the knife down the hall at a guard who'd taken aim to shoot us and hit him in the leg and he crumpled to the ground in pain.

"See Ivy, told you he's nice, see you around Feline. You should probably hang out with us sometime if you make it out of here alive" I said as I patted him on the back, and Ivy still confused as ever ran alongside me, Feline looked back once again confused and just shook his head and bolted.

"Is there a particular reason that you did that?" Ivy said as we finally made it to the back exit that I accidentally found on my first day on the job, it was one only used for emergencies, and in this case, I guess emergency fit perfectly.

"I don't know, I just feel it's good to have a few allies around just in case you ever need some help you know? You never know when you'll see those people again, and you want to leave on good terms," I said as Ivy and I went through the bushel of trees and shrubbery behind Arkham and I started to walk her back to my apartment not too far from Gotham.

"Seriously, Dean? It takes you having to lose your mind before you learn how to make friends?" he asks and I laugh a little as we start to approach my apartment, running from an insane asylum really made you pick up the pace, we were there a lot faster than I thought.

"I know right its kind of ironic, isn't it? I was so unhappy being like everyone else, but now, now that I'm free I don't have to worry about those pesky little insecurities anymore," I said knocking on the apartment door a few doors down from me trying to catch my breath.

"Hey, are you ever going to tell me why your skin looks so—" he was cut off by the voice of the man who had answered the door quickly. His face was contorted in worry mixed with anger as he answered,

"Lisa is that you? Where the hell have you bee—oh who the hell are you," Mark snaps at me, and as soon as I catch my breath, I look up at him.

"So you're Mark, Lisa's husband?" I asked, finally able to breathe a little easier, both he and Ivy are looking at me raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, have you seen her?" he asks hopeful, and I wanted to laugh, but I kept my laughter in check as I answer his question.

"Oh I've done more than seen her, I talked to her," I say cryptically, the guy jacks be up by my shirt and pulls me close, I can smell the distinct scent of alcohol permeating the air around his mouth.

"Enough games, you freaks come dressed up in Halloween costumes talking about you talked to my wife, well you have a lot of—" he was cut off by the sound of his own muffled scream as I shot him in the thigh and pushed him into the apartment.

"Sorry, the only person who's allowed to touch me like that is Mr. J," I say as I slam his face into the edge of his desk that sits adjacent to his couch. Ivy had come inside a closed the door behind me and sat down on his loveseat and just enjoyed the show I was putting on.

He tried to cry out, but I slammed his mouth into the side of the desk drawer over and over again till most of his front teeth were on his hardwood floor and the desk was stained in his blood.

"Although, she did have something special to share with you Mark, you were going to be a daddy, say hi to Lisa and little Ben for me will you, oh wait, I doubt you see them where you're going, anyways, nighty night," I shoot him in once in the head,

"Sleep tight, "I shoot him in his chest,

"Don't let the bed bugs bite," I shoot him in each of his eyes. I smile and look over at Ivy, whose smiling just as darkly as I was, and got up and looked at me folding his arms with an eyebrow raised,

"What he had it coming," he held up the keys he snagged from the holder.

"And this had nothing to do with you wanting to steal that Black Impala that I saw in the parking lot on the way over here?" He says, and I hated how he knew me so well, and I grabbed the keys from his hand and walked towards the door and he followed behind me.

By the time we were out the door, I nearly leaped onto the hood of the car and smiled excitedly. Sam looked at me and shook his head.

"Okay, yeah, maybe it had a little to do with the car, but I mean come on, you got to admit, it's a pretty sweet ride," I said with a smile and I stepped over to the driver's side and half stepped into the car, as I looked at Sam and waved at him over,

"Come on let's go," I said and he laughed and walked over to the passenger's side of the car and got inside.

I started the engine and it purred like a kitten, he might have been a dick of a husband, but he had good taste in cars, the best.

"Where are we going?" he asked me, as I pulled out of the parking lot.

"Not sure, really, not too far because I have to be home to see Mr. J later on tonight he's got to get some work done, so I guess we can have a night on the town if you want? Catch up a little you know?" I ask, he looks over and smiles.

"Are you ever going to tell me about this Mr. J you keep referring to, and why you suddenly look like you've never had an ounce of sunlight in your entire life, this new style, the hair?

I mean I'm not knocking it, oddly enough it suits you but what's with all the changes, what happened?" He asked as I was about to pull onto the road.

"I'll tell you the full story tonight, but cliff notes version, he showed me a whole new perspective on life that I wouldn't have ever seen had I not met him," I say.

He considered my words for a second and looked at me and laughed,

"Yeah, that makes zero sense to me, I'm going to need a lot more detail, like all of it," he says and I turn and start to drive on the road just going forward, not really knowing where, just going.

We'll probably look for Ivy some kind of house to live at because even though he's my best friend, he couldn't exactly live with us. But I just wanted to drive because I'd spent so much of my time here at Gotham walking that it was nice to have the chance to drive around the city for once, on a vehicle that was mine, more or less.

But there was still one question that was burning in my mind, one that stuck out above all else, one that still made no sense to me even now. My boss, Dr. Strange, went to extraordinary lengths to get me to be Mr. J's psychiatrist, but for the life of me, I didn't know why.

He had cameras in my meetings with Ivy even audio, so would he have seen the footage of what we had done together, what we had planned together. No, he wouldn't have, because if he did, that would mean that he knew about this the whole time. Then again he said that Mr. J would make me into something magnificent, but I doubt this is what he meant.

Or was it?


	18. Epilogue

Dr. Strange looked at the monitors in front of him, there were four windows popped up on the screen in front of him and he smiled darkly. He finally had everything he needed into place. He had expected for Dr. Quinzel to fall for the Joker on the first session, he knew that the Joker would break him, and he was definitely interested in seeing just how far he was willing to go.

But, he didn't account for Dr. Sorkin's involvement with the Joker, that was putting a large wrench in his plans. But some of his friends in the GCPD informed him that her body was found in a ditch somewhere, nearly unrecognizable. Strange had no doubt in his mind that Dr. Quinzel had something to do with her sudden violent death.

His little seed of doubt he planted in the doctor developed into outright hatred once his love for the Joker was put at risk. Dr. Quinzel not only broke for the Joker, but he turned for him, a level of obsession reaching an entirely new level. He was pleased that his experiment had gone as planned, pleased to see that his test subject proved to be a suitable partner for the Clown Prince of Crime.

The other's he'd tried seemed to always fail, but that was because he was going about this situation from the wrong angle. He wanted the Joker to be with someone to test the theory of if sociopaths were capable of love or any affection for this matter and being that Dr. Quinzel, now Harley Quinn, was still alive, his theory was proven correct.

The Joker may not be capable of loving someone the way most people show it, but Harley staying in the picture proved to be quite promising.

Although he had bigger plans, plans that didn't involve just Harley or just the Joker. No, he had one more experiment that he wanted to conduct and he had a willing participant who was willing to conduct the experiment on some of the criminals he'd helped create and those simply under his care.

He wanted to know that if put in life or death situations, how would people under different levels of psychosis react if forced to go against their nature and help people instead of hurt them. He wanted to know which one would crack under the pressure first, or which one would rather die than to help another.

These were burning questions that he knew the woman that would be on the other end of his ringing desk phone would be able to help him answer.

"Strange, have you considered my offer?" said the shrill voice of Amanda Waller on the phone's receiver.

"Yes, I have," Strange answered calmly.

"Well," she asks impatiently.

"I do believe that I've found the perfect matches for your, little project," he responds. He clicks the windows and the four windows get larger, the pictures displayed on them are screen grabs of the break out that happened only a few hours prior.

Harley Quinn, Killer Frost, Poison Ivy, and Feline were all on the screen. Strange smiled, for he knew that was coming next was going to provide interesting results.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Saga Continues in....Origins: Switched


End file.
